The Weeping Summer Drought
by CoffeeAndSunshine
Summary: "Help me." Lizzy whispered without knowing that she shared the words with a cursed soul she had never met: Gilbert. Like two ships out in a storm, both search desperately for light and find it when they crash into each other, and sink impaled into the black ocean, hearing only dying screams of wind. Depression, their affliction, sat like a barbed rose crown on their heads.
1. A Flower Named Lizzy

It was 10:00, and Lizzy had observed every face in the sterile waiting room, at least five times. The woman across from her had only caught her eyes once. Then, there was the strange man with a scarf that kept muttering to himself. A young mother with two infants glanced anxiously at each carrier in turn. Another parent, more hostile looking, and with prominent eyebrows, sat beside a beaming child, who swung his band-aided legs until his poor father seemed about to snap.

"Elizabeth?" a receptionist called. Elizaveta didn't even bother to correct the mispronunciation. Even she found it easier to introduce herself as "Elizabeth".

Several stacks of paperwork later, Lizzy felt the familiar "white coat syndrome" setting in. She thought that doctors must set their offices up to be as distant and comfortless as possible. Her room had no window, and the paneled lights glared and reflected off every plastic poster, each depicting a different malfunction of the interior body. She set the papers aside, and concentrated on the floor.

"Miss….Héderváry?" The Doctor stumbled across the last name, as he entered the room.

"Yes."

"You came off your depression medication last month didn't you? And this is the follow up we scheduled, correct?"

"Yes." Lizzy had the urge to shove the paperwork in his face, and demand that he read it through before asking another pointless question.

"Alright. So, how have you been feeling?" the doctor said. He had migrated over to the sink, and was typing on his small laptop.

"Better. I've felt much more like myself. And I'm really glad to be off meds."

 _After this, I've got to talk to the counselor and the psychiatrist. Ha, and I owe them both money._

"And have you experienced any pain, or strange urges, feelings? Any indicating withdrawal symptoms?"

"No."

"Very good." The typing had slowed to the beat of intermittent clicks. "I'm sorry I have to ask you all these questions." he said, without looking up at her, "Just procedure."

"It's okay." Lizzy said, "I had a question though."

"Mmm?" the Doctor let his professional speech slip for a moment.

"Well, would you say it's safe to stop going to my counselor? Unless I start feeling bad again."

"You probably want to talk to her about that. I would recommend sticking with it for a few more months; just to get it all out of your system, and readjust. "

"Okay. Thank you."

* * *

"I don't know Luddy, okay?! Sometimes people just get depressed for the heck of it. It's not...I don't think this is my fault."

Ludwig Beilschmidt had eyes like the sky, and now they were filled with pain that threatened to rain onto his angular face. "I never said it was your fault. Please, I just want to know if I can do anything to help you."

Gilbert felt all the support beams of his heart sever at once. "It's not that you don't help. You can't. No one can. Please don't cry."

"I can't help you?" Ludwig echoed. "Well maybe not. But we'll find someone who can." His voice was stern again.

* * *

Lizzy lived in a two story house, and it was here that everything started hurting again. She was unprepared for it. She had just canceled her psychiatrist appointment. And sitting on the steps of her apartment, outside, was a grey haired man, with startling red eyes.

"Excuse me, please." she said. The please was added because he was attractive. She hadn't kicked him because he looked innocent enough, but most people who loitered on her doorstep wouldn't have been so fortunate. .

He obliged. But before she could open the front door, he had his mouth open again, like he was going to say something.

"You- do you know where I could find the bus stop, around here. Sorry, I'm sort of lost."

Lizzy considered leaving him without an answer, but considered how desperate he looked. "It's down the road. You could probably walk there from here.

"Ok, thanks."

And that would have been it, if Lizzy hadn't felt extremely compassionate. "I could show you." she offered, noting that she had just broken at least 10 rules about interacting with strangers.

"Ah, sure. My name's Gilbert, by the way." He extended his hand. It wasn't too dirty, but it was soft when she took it. It was a hard patchwork of calluses, and very firm.

"My name's...Lizzy." She decided.

He nodded, as if expecting something else.

They walked along the sidewalk. It was a beautiful day, but something uneasy had settled in Lizzy's stomach. It wasn't Gilbert; but something that she felt was attached to him. Then she felt it too, and before her eyes, the colors of the trees seemed to fade, although they stayed the same. The street had blinders on either side; a rocky canal on one, and a cement sidewalk on the other. Lizzy would have smiled to see the hills that bejeweled with flowers leading down to the water's edge. She loved birdsong, and all the crowns of summer but now she felt something in her heart. It was a splinter of deep-down knowledge, but she hadn't pulled it out yet, and so she didn't know what it said yet.

"Where are you going?" she asked. Gilbert had been looking at the sidewalk too.

"The Doctor's Office in the city. I'm visiting my brother here, and he's at work." he explained.

"You know, I was just there this morning." Lizzy said, and the sense deepened.

"Really? Huh, that's funny."

The bus stop shelter was empty. Its glass was grimy and dull.

Lizzy pointed at it. "Well, that's it. Good luck, then."

"Thanks."

She called after him, "Why are you going to the Doctor?"

He stopped, right there next to the bus stop, and was still for a moment. Lizzy could see his neck sink as he bowed his head in thought.

"I'm kind of messed up. In my head, I think." he laughed, "Sorry, you probably think I'm crazy."

Lizzy couldn't see the sky with all the large tree tops around the bus stop, but she felt certain that it had suddenly filled with rain clouds. Gilbert smiled again, as if it was nothing.

And that might have been it, if Lizzy hadn't been so compassionate or so impulsive.

Because she saw herself, shouldering the pain in the way this man did. And even when the pain could be hidden, it would still eat out her insides. And so she blurted out her darkest secret to a stranger. "It's okay, I was depressed too."

Depression had been Lizzy's secret. No one knew, except for a handful of medical professionals. None of her family or friends had known. She had never told them, but it hurt that they couldn't see the pain she was in.

But Gilbert was a stranger, so she didn't have to worry about hurting him with her words. He didn't know her. But suddenly he had a look of strange sorrow across his face. "I'm sorry." he said gravely.

It felt like one of them should have done something, because they were so connected. It was a moment when two people would say something, and laugh. But through some irony, neither of them could remember the human response.

A bus pulled over a hill in the distance. Lizzy wanted to say something, but she didn't know what.

"Hey, I know you already did me a favor, but maybe you could call my brother and tell him where I'm going. We kind of just got into a fight, so I'm not ready to talk to him yet. I'll write it down for you."

That was the closest Lizzy figured he would get to giving her his number, but it was something. She took the paper, and stashed it in her skirt pocket.

With a mechanical wheeze, the red bus pulled alongside the bus stop.

Something sharp surged through Lizzy's whole body, but she felt it most in her head, like a quick throb of lightning. Then her heart skipped a beat, before galloping. She couldn't breath, but she wanted to cry.

"Thank you so much!" Gilbert said.

"You're welcome...and I'd just like to say, as someone who knows what you're going through with..." she couldn't bring herself to say the word, "your problem, it does get better. And the first step is talking to people who know."

He boarded the bus, and the door closed.

* * *

 **Coauthored by Depression**

 **Hi! I will be (hopefully) updating weekly. Thank you! Please Review.**


	2. Cellphone Ownership

Lizzy stood alone at the bus stop for a minute, and thought. When she had finally collected enough motivation to walk, she started back up the concrete hill.

Her town was small, but not quaint. Other towns had places to boast of, small libraries and markets, but Lizzy's had a cement box school, a church, and a cemetery. Food stores consisted of either a dangerous looking gas-station that never sold anything substantial but milk and coffee, or a small grocery market that had a stock of small vegetables, occasionally eggs, and tabloids.

Lizzy passed the post office, and remembered the stack of bills from the doctors she had, packed high and unruly on her desk at home.

She passed the ugly office buildings, and remembered that she was employed in one of them. She got to her own doorstep alone, and remembered that she was supposed to call the stranger's brother.

She pulled out the paper and her phone, and dialed the number written almost illegibly.

A strong voice answered, tersely. "Beilschmidt residence. Who is this?"

"I'm calling for Gilbert." Lizzy said, unsurely.

"He's not here." the man said.

"Umm...I mean, I'm calling on behalf of Gilbert." she clarified, "He wanted me to tell you that he's out of town for the day to see a doctor." Lizzy thought she heard a sigh on the other end.

"I see. Who are you?"

"A friend."

And Lizzy hadn't realized that the word had come out without any hesitation. _More like a stranger_. But it seemed to appease the brother, because his tone became less stiff.

"Thank you. Also, if you see Gilbert, please tell him that Antonio left a message on his phone."

In the distance, a streetcar blared. "Okay. What's his number, so that I can call him?"

There was an uncomfortable silence. "You have it. This is Gilbert's phone. I answered it for him, because he isn't here."

"Oh. Okay. Thank you."

The line went dead.

* * *

Gilbert had nothing to do on the bus but doubt. People around him immersed themselves in their devices, but his mind wouldn't shut up. It went on and on, so fast. He didn't even know why he was asking so many questions. He didn't care if his life had meaning; at least he never had before. Now it seemed like the world would end if he didn't figure out what he would do with the rest of his life - and would he ever feel normal again- and what if I'm stuck like this forever, was he happy?

"Heck, I don't know." he muttered.

Gilbert was every form of unhappy. His head hurt, and he just wanted to sleep. He kept seeing Luddy, brought to tears. _I did that to my brother. Gosh, I should have just shut up about the whole thing. At least it wouldn't hurt him if he didn't know_.

The scenery outside the bus morphed from a blur of the pavement-shades of building sides, to a green rural. One doctor's office, one town over.

The blue of the sky hurt his eyes. Even his mind stopped to gaze at the valleys of fertile greenery. But no one else in the bus seemed to care that the sky was suddenly visible, and that there was grass, and life.

 _Isn't that what I'm normally like? Yeesh, I'm not a bird-watcher. What is this?_

The trip took about thirty-minutes, but it felt like eternity to Gilbert. Every second raked it's fingernails into his mind, and dragged out. _I'm going crazy. Yes, that's it. No depression or whatever. Just straight crazy_.

But eventually they entered the suburbs again. The mountain view was replaced by office buildings. One of them would be the doctor's office. Gilbert got off the bus, and was lost. From his position on the sidewalk, he could see buildings, and not much else. This town was much more condensed than the one over, he thought. The sun stabbed into each of his eyes, and seemed to be brighter off the bland-pavement.

 _Why on earth did you leave your phone at home? Now you won't make it to your appointment_.

As cars went by on the street, Gilbert thought for the first time that each person in the vehicle had their own life, and he would never know their stories. No one could tell what he was feeling.

He found the Doctor's office by wandering around the city on the sidewalks. Eventually, a sign on the front of a building exposed its location. Gilbert entered it with little confidence.

As he sat in the office, it smelled like hand sanitizer. _Yuck._

The Doctor opened the door. Gilbert's pulse quickened.

"So, why are you here, Mr. Beilschmidt?"

It felt like the hardest question in the world to answer, even when the answer was so simple. "Well...I'm depressed, I think."

The Doctor hardly blinked. "How long have you felt this way?"

"About three weeks."

"And you can see no correlation to outside circumstances?"

"No." Gilbert said confidently.

"Alright. Let me go get a survey for you to fill out."

Gilbert waited in the narrow white room, and eyed the long stretcher bed, covered in paper.

A minute later, the survey was in his hand. He read one of the questions towards the middle of the page: _Have you experienced a loss of interest in thing you normally enjoy?_

" _Hey, Gil, do you want to come over to my place for dinner?_

 _"No, sorry Toni. I'm not feeling very well."_

 _A beat. Toni knew something was wrong. "Okay then. I hope you feel better. Bye!_

 _"Bye." Gilbert said vaguely._

Gilbert counted his responses carefully, glancing at the key. _Moderate to Severe Clinical Depression._

He cleared his throat, and the Doctor looked up from his computer.

"Here. I filled it out."

"Thank you." The Doctor scanned the sheet, "Could you explain how this started, so I can give you a good recommendation."

"About three weeks ago, I started feeling weird. I had strange thoughts, and I just felt really tired. Then, I couldn't even bring myself to do enjoyable things. This past week though, I've felt really sad, for no reason."

"And do you have a history of depression in you family?"

"I don't really know."

 _"Daddy's home!" Gilbert shrieked, pulling his little brother by the arm into the foyer._

 _Gerhard Beilschmidt was an impressive man. Luddy looked just like him. His eyes were fierce and blue, his hair was long and wild, and occasionally his lips would light with a small smile, reserved for his children and his enemies._

 _Today he did not smile. Hardly acknowledging the boys at his feet, he hung his coat in the closet, and went into a seclusion for the rest of the day._

 _Gilbert didn't know why his father wouldn't come out, or why he had seemed so sad, but within his six-year old mind, something weak broke, and something strong and crippling grew_.

"I'd recommend that you talk to a counselor. We prefer to see if you can talk yourself down from depression through counseling or CBT before doing anything drastic, like prescribing medication."

"Okay, thank you."

Gilbert felt the burning in his head increase as he left the office, and stepped back into the blinding daylight.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please review.**

 **I don't actually have a cellphone ( *gasp*), so if any of this is impossible/inaccurate, someone tell me, please. Also, I feel like the Doctor's Office scene moved really fast. I might edit that later.**

 **Gerhard Beilschmidt - Germania**


	3. Sleepless Tears

Lizzy went home. It felt strangely lonely, although she already lived by herself.

She had the strange urge to call one of her friends and tell them that she had a date. _No, he didn't give me his number. Well, he did, but I thought it was his brother's number. I met him when he was loitering on my doorstep. We have so much in common; like depression._

The strange feeling had grown, like a swollen sore, and she couldn't ignore it anymore. Lizzy made a pot of coffee, and took an aspirin.

The day passed slowly, forgetting the morning. Lizzy couldn't think of anything productive to do, and with horror realized that she couldn't muster enough desire to do anything that she wanted to do. The dishes waited in the sink, patiently expecting to have soap and water administered. And there they waited all the day in a horizontal stack, remaining soiled with collected fragments of food sticking to them (through some had fallen into the bottom of the sink, near the drain, with no flush of water to sweep it cleanly out of sight).

So, gradually she pulled herself out of her bed, where she had been languishing, and forced herself to do something recreational; reading.

She neglected her lunch, and ate a small, meaningless dinner of canned soup. She didn't even feel like eating

Darkness settled around the house. Saturday was dying. Lying awake in her bed, Lizzy felt the lingering emptiness, and understood everything. She was depressed again, and she couldn't even care.

Hour after hour, she wondered if she would ever be allowed to fall asleep. Sleep seemed so distant. She begged anything that would listen to just let her rest. _Please, I just want to sleep._

Lizzy knew that she wasn't done yet. Her emotions still fluctuated between being turned off, to all-consuming pain and fear. The sensation of emotional-nausea brought her close to tears for seconds, and then hollow-souled the next. When the tears did come, trailing out of the outer corners of her eyes, and into her pillow, she was relieved, but wished that it wasn't accompanied by such restlessness. She turned over onto her other side and let the thoughts drain from one side of her head to the other.

 _Please not again. I can't go through this again._

Lizzy didn't care anymore; she couldn't. That was the irony - she couldn't even care that she was in so much pain. Part of her was just empty. Before depression, being numb would have sounded nice; to not have to worry about pain, or sadness. But Lizzy had soon discovered that she missed her sadness. She missed her happiness, and just feeling normal.

She got up, looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was pale, except for the dark underneath her eyes. Her hair was a tangled mess. She grabbed her brush. A thousand hairs pulled and twisted to join under a rack of barbed plastic. She yanked and brushed most of them into conformant strands. Some of them are rebellious, and stick out, or curl under. Lizzy didn't care enough to fix them.

Lizzy sat on the edge of her bed in her pajamas, and collapsed backwards from exhaustion. Her phone beeped the time. She grabbed for it - _a distraction_. As she flicked through bright screens, and closed unnecessary tabs, a message in her inbox lay waiting.

She opened it.

 _Hey I found the Doctor's Office. It looks like I'm going to see a counselor. Haha, my brother told me that you thought this was his phone. And apparently he got the idea that we're best friends. Luddy doesn't really get the concept of "friends" Just kidding. :)_

 _Sorry if I confused you. Again, thank you so much for helping me._

 _-Gilbert_

Lizzy smiled, despite feeling nothing. It was a habit. Her mind still knew how to smile and laugh at the appropriate times, even when it didn't reflect her emotions.

She replied:

 _Hi! No problem. I hope that you and your brother have made up. If you're looking for counselors, I can recommend Michelle Bonnefoy. She's been my counselor for a while, and she's very good. And it isn't too expensive. Anyway, you're welcome. Good Luck!_

 _-Lizzy_

* * *

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 **Thank you to everyone who followed, favorited (apparently this is not a word), and reviewed.**

 **And to the guest who reviewed: Thank you! It means a lot to me that you took the time to say something about what I wrote. I hope you continue reading it. I'm sorry if I made you sad, but I'm also very glad that you found my writing so potent. If it makes you feel better, I was sad writing it. Poor characters. Thank you!**


	4. Not a Date

Gilbert hated waking up. It was even worse when accompanied with the sensation of something sitting on your chest. He checked his watch, when he finally was able to sit up. His watch betrayed the time: 0300. Three o'clock, and he was going to have to give Ludwig a hard time in the morning for changing his watch to military time...

He forced himself to sleep again. His dreams were strange, and repetitive. In his mind, the walls were closing in. Gilbert couldn't see them, because there was no light in this place, but he could feel the crushing of his bones as the surfaces compressed. He couldn't breath.

Gilbert woke up panting in the dark. Instinctively, he looked around to see that his bedroom was securely in place, and when the walls stayed still and firm, he exhaled deeply.

His phone made a sound. He flipped it open, and saw something from Lizzy. but before he could comprehend it, he had to reread his own past words (He didn't know what they were talking about.)

He scrolled up, and found his first message. _Oh, now it makes sense._ He typed a reply:

 _Where's her office?_

 _-Gilbert_

Lizzy took a deep breath, and asked herself if she wanted to keep Gilbert, or let him walk out of her life, having only known her an an acquaintance.

 _Why don't you meet me at the Gas Station around 6:30 and we can go over together. I have an appointment, but she accepts walk-ins._

 _-Lizzy_

She exhaled, and by the time her eyes were open again, he had already responded.

 _Sure._

 _-G_

Lizzy jumped at her own daring when she saw his response. _I can schedule and organize things, like an adult_. _It's like I have a power_ , she thought giddily. But of course there was the waiting; always the waiting.

She thought it would drive her mad. But the anticipated meeting gave her a fabrication that she could hold on to as she writhed hour after hour, in a fidgety state, as if she had something to look forward to. The minutes were mercilessly slow. She closed her eyes for a second, and when she blinked them open, it was six. _Time is leaving me behind. I'm so tired - was that really sleep, or did I just imagine it?_

After changing. she skipped breakfast. Lizzy left out the front door, switched off the lights, and stood on her steps to look out at the bleak darkness being pierced by the rising sun which had began to fill the dimmed world.

It was a short walk to the gas station. She had to wait ten minutes for Gilbert. Some date. _He's not a date_ , she reminded herself.

Gilbert jogged up, and saw Lizzy's dispassionate face.

"I waited fifteen minutes for you." she said.

"I'll buy you a coffee." he suggested, apologetically.

As it turned out, the coffee at the gas station was horrible, but Gilbert stomached it. Lizzy spat the first mouthful of hers onto the concrete, before downing the rest of it to be polite to the dollar Gilbert had spent on buying it for her.

"So, did the doctor have any advice? Or did he just point you to the non-medication route as soon as he could wash his hands of the business?" she asked, swallowing her exhaustion, forcing her eyes open, and her manner into something sociable.

"Eh, pretty much. He didn't seem too keen on medication."

Lizzy rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it. I had to go through a counselor, a psychologist, a psychiatrist, and another doctor to get him to prescribe me any. I mean I won't say that they're the answer to everything, but they worked for me. I'm not opposed to them in principle."

"Yeah, I understand. How many tests can I look forward to taking?'

"Ha, a lot. It seems like before they can do anything, they have to give you another survey. Oh no, we can't talk to you about what you're feeling. We have to give you a survey." she mimicked.

Gilbert laughed. It was a strange sort of cackle, but its grittiness seemed authentic.

The cashier observed them from inside the store, behind the glass and a register.

"We should move before someone tells us to stop loitering here." Lizzy said. She looked out at the street dreamily, her eyes wavered with exhaustion. The cars went passed slowly, like a procession - they were too dark colored and dull to be considered a parade, but a procession sounded more solemn. Light had overcome the dark of night time, and she could see trash; cigarettes, soda containers, and blackened gum caking against the ground.

The store was empty, but automobiles would pull over and use the pumps at the station. The people that got out of them probably had faces, but Lizzy couldn't see them. She looked up, and saw that Gilbert was staring at her. _Ah, I was zoning out._

"You're right. We should move." he said.

They marched through the parking lot like warriors, until they found an uninhabited sidewalk next to a telephone poll, and across from a stop sign. The color of the stoplight changed from green to

red. Cars had accumulated, and were suddenly all released at once like the something that had been holding them back was gone; like the spring on a pinball machine. They shot out into the

distance, faster than Lizzy could even think of ever moving. She must have stared into the street a while, quietly, because Gilbert was staring at her again.

"Her office is over there," Lizzy pointed forward, across the river of cars (as if by magic the street had refilled), "But she doesn't open for another twenty minutes."

"We can walk around a bit until it opens." Gilbert said.

"Sure." Lizzy waited for the stoplight to halt all the cars, and they both made their way through the pedestrian crosswalk.

The other side of the street was almost exactly the same, the only difference being a view of the gas station and some street signs versus a row of apartment developments and office buildings. They rounded the corner, and the block of steeply inclining brick made an alley, spreading out for what seemed like miles, but was only a few blocks.

"All the way at the end." Lizzy explained. "It's pretty small."

Gilbert let out a breath, and knew that he wasn't prepared to talk to someone, but that he had to. "Thanks for all this. You're really nice." he said, to Lizzy, without looking at her.

"Oh, you're welcome." She brushed it off, and her voice sounded distracted. She was thinking about her own visit, and what she would say. But there wasn't time for planning.

"Did you have good experiences with...talking to people about depression? I mean, did it help you?" Gilbert said, suddenly.

His words caught her like a forceful blow. Her own mind had been unprepared for that question, because she didn't know the answer, or even a suitable fake one.

"Umm, I think some aspects of it helped. I just needed to get feelings off my chest. Having someone listen to you is really important. But I don't think you always need a counselor for that. I got moved up to medication on her recommendation, because she thought that just talking once a week didn't seem to be very effective for me. But each person's depression is...unique." She felt sick at having used such a lovely word to describe such an ugly condition.

"Okay. I'll keep that in mind. I just don't want to tell my brother that this will definitely work. He's got his hopes on a quick recovery. I know he doesn't like to see me in pain, so he really wants this to be the solution that works. Me too, for that matter."

A wind swept over the entire street; a foreshadowing. They kept walking down past each house, in which people lived carefree lives. It was the longest walk, and yet it was over too soon. Gilbert didn't want to talk to someone about his feelings. _That's girly_. But that wasn't the reason. He was afraid of what he would find within his own mind.

At the end of the avenue was a smaller office building, divided into even smaller departments. One small section had been cut out for a 'Michelle Bonnefoy, Counseling Services'

"I guess we can go in." Lizzy said, consulting her watch.

* * *

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	5. Appointment

Lizzy opened the door. There was a staircase leading up, and only about as large as the door had been.

Gilbert looked doubtfully at the space, and wondered if his broad shoulders would fit. He focused his attention on the carpet as they ascended. _Yeesh, I'm like a kid about to get a shot. It's not going to be that bad_.

After the staircase and another door, their was a small room with a couch, magazines, and a radio playing loud music. Shoved off into the farthest corner of the room was another door, from which a few muffled noises could be heard. Presumably, this was why the music had been turned on.

Lizzy seemed comfortable in the environment. She knew what she was doing. Immediately, she was in a particular position on the couch, with a housekeeping magazine open to an article about summer decorating with clothes hangers.

It took Gilbert a moment to sit, and there he distracted himself by counting the number of polka dots on the sofa. Or were they flowers? He turned his head to inspect another patch of cloth near his shoulder. They were small, globular flowers.

The other door opened, the one with the noises. A young woman came out, her hair pulled into ridiculous pigtails. She smiled familiarly toward Lizzy, and looked Gilbert over with a kind, inspecting gaze. "I'll be out in a minute." she said to both of them.

The door was open slightly, and Gilbert could see into the room. A teenager sat on the couch, looking straight ahead. Gilbert felt a surge of pity. _Life isn't fair,_ he thought. The walls appeared to be plastered with photographs and drawings. The room was a sea-green, and fair blue color, like the ocean. A blue, yellow, red, white, and green flag hung from the wall, but he didn't recognize it.

The woman went towards a desk with a computer on it, that had been settled in an alcove of the waiting room. She picked through some papers, selected a few, and brought them back into the room, closing the door behind her.

It was only five minutes, but Gilbert had the familiar feeling of being trapped in a single droplet of time for hours on end.

The door opened again, and both people evacuated the counseling chamber. "Have a nice day." The woman said. The younger smiled, sadly, as if to say " _I wish"_.

"Lizzy, I have you scheduled for 10:30, but I can take you now, or later, " she looked at Gilbert, "Who wants to go first?"

Lizzy exchanged a glance with Gilbert. "I'll go." he said. _Get it over with_.

She nodded, and her eyes switched back to her magazine.

"Okay then, I'll save the money-talk until after we've finished talking. You can come back with me."

* * *

Gilbert found the room to be much homier inside. The lamp light was warm, and when the door closed, it felt very secure.

Michelle settled herself among a nest of blankets. It was very clearly her space, professional building or not.

"So, what brings you here today, and what's your name?"

Two questions, fired at roughly the same time. Gilbert answered the easy one first. "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt, " she nodded, and wrote something down, "And, I'm here...because I think I'm depressed."

"You think." she asked, looking him over. "But do you know?"

"Well, not for sure, but my score on the depression test marked me as moderate to severe, so my doctor said I should try counseling. But I have been feeling...out of it lately, which is why I went to the doctor's in the first place.

She stared at him intently, but not all of him. Only his eyes. She wrote something else down. "I'm sure you were asked a lot of things at the doctor's office, so bear with me if you get some repeats. How long have you felt this way?"

"About three weeks."

"Okay. And have you had any dangerous thoughts? Like, self-harm, or suicide?"

"No. I've just sort of lost interest in life. I mean, it feels that way."

"I see."

"You sound like you have something else on your mind, Gilbert. Do you feel like talking about anything particular about you depression?"

"Umm, well I have a younger brother. And I'm worried that I made a mistake in telling him about being depressed. Because he's really worried about me. I didn't want to hurt him. I guess it didn't seem like that big of a deal to me. But now I'm afraid that I won't ever feel better."

She nodded. "Your brother must care about you a lot. It's good that you told him. Can you imagine if your behavior changed, and he didn't know why. I think that would be more worrying. You shouldn't worry, depression is treatable. A few years ago, right in the middle of college for this job," she waved her arm, indicating the room, "I got depressed. I didn't know what to do, even though I was supposed to be able to counsel people who felt that way. It was a crushing blow to my confidence. But I went to another counselor, who helped me to feel better. She also taught me a lot about how to talk to people, and I learned a lot through experiencing it."

Gilbert swallowed, the words sinking into his head."I don't understand my thoughts anymore either. " he said, "I seem to overthink everything, or I'll think about things I don't usually care about, like the meaning of life and all that existential kind of stuff."

"Does it bother you?" she asked, "I know some people are just wired that way."

"Yeah. I'm not a psychological person, or whatever. No offense to you or anything."

She smiled. "Well, there's nothing wrong with pondering psychology, or perhaps a better word choice would be philosophy, but if you overthink everything, it can make it hard to concentrate on important things. And then it's a problem, especially if it makes you unhappy.

"And I keep doubting that I'm actually depressed. Maybe I'm just overreacting."

After putting his worst fear out, exposed to himself and another person, Gilbert felt the thought increase, and doubt still paced in the depths of his mind.

"I want to feel better, and I really don't know what to do."

"Hey, it's okay. That's why you're here. We can't always solve things by ourselves."

* * *

Lizzy didn't want to tell Michelle that she was depressed again. She had fought long and hard with her counselor, the doctor, and psychologist to go off meds, stubbornly insisting that she was better. _I guess not_.

She closed the magazine, and resisted the urge to plug her ears. The music was atrocious.

 _Where will I go from here? Will I just be put back on medication. I was so stupid to think I knew better than all of them._

She knew that Michelle would understand, but now everything had just become more difficult. Another waiting period, another prescription. _Maybe it isn't too late to recall the last one. But I thought I was pretty thorough about canceling it_.

Lizzy realized that while she was rationally worrying about something, inside she didn't care. She couldn't care. _I want to care. I know that I want to, so that's why I'm getting help again._

But back came the doubt. Why was she so weak? Not only was she susceptible to this once, but now her life hung within a balance, dependent on medication.

As soon as the door opened,she went back to "reading" the magazine. If someone looked into her eyes, they would know that something was wrong with her. Lizzy suddenly felt very afraid.

"Hey Liz, we've just about wrapped up. I'm going to sort out his payment, and we can start."

"Thanks."

Michelle turned the radio off as she reentered her office. Lizzy heard "insurance" and "covered" from her friend, before Gilbert said something like: "Okay, thanks."

When Gilbert had been escorted from the room, he decided to wait for Lizzy. Michelle turned the radio back on, and disappeared back into the room.

"So, what's up. Just a regular meeting, or did something happen?" she asked.

Lizzy knew what she had to say, but the words wouldn't come. She looked around the room. It had become very familiar to her, like another home. Unfortunately, she always associated the place, even her cheerful friend, with depression.

"I think I'm depressed again. And yes, I know that I just got off medication. It's back again." She shook her head, with pursed lips.

"Oh, Liz." The counselor's voice was filled with disappointment. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, Chelles. It's been pretty bad. I couldn't sleep last night."

"Well, before we look for another medication, we could look for some sleeping aids." Michelle was trying to be helpful and professional, but it was clear that she was acting in a purely instinctive manner. "When did it start back up again?"

"Yesterday."

"And you don't think anything happened to provoke it?"

"I went to the Doctor for my post-off-medication checkup at the Doctor's, but that was fine."

Michelle nodded, and glanced at the door. "By the way, do you know him. He mentioned you." she asked, referring to Gilbert.

"Yeah. We met yesterday."

"Oh, some coincidence." Michelle wrote something down. Lizzy hated it when she would start scrawling at seemingly random moments, making her question everything she had said.

"I don't think he has anything to do with it." Lizzy winced at how defensive it had sounded.

"Ah well. You've got something in common, at least."

"Yeah."

* * *

Lizzy and Gilbert left the office, and found the streets to be significantly filled. It was like emerging from a darkness into a lighted place, and having to shield your eyes against the light. Except that Lizzy had almost forgotten that so many people existed, and now she was unprepared to be near any of them.

"Did your appointment go well?" she asked.

"Yeah. We scheduled another one for next week, and I've got five free appointments through my insurance. How'd yours go?"

Lizzy hesitated, and decided to lie. "It went fine. I think I'm going to have to have some regular visits, but hopefully I'll be done soon." Her heart filled with a heavy weight.

"Oh, that's good!" Gilbert said.

They walked the stretch of road in silence. Each had separate thoughts, different and yet connected by the same disease.

At the intersection between the gas station, and the road, they parted ways.

"Thanks." Gilbert said.

"You too." Lizzy called after him as he became a distant figure.

Something inside each of them connected both of them, and by a similar twist of fate, the reason they would love each other would be the reason they never could.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Merry Christmas (and any other Holiday that you might be celebrating)!**

 **I based the counseling visit completely on experience, so hopefully it was realistic, but please tell me if I'm missing anything.**

 **Michelle - Seychelles**


	6. Humidity: 100 Percent, Music: 95 Percent

Lizzy wasn't terribly fond of summer. Of course, when she had been a child in school, it had seemed like a distant, and beautiful oasis. Now it was just another season, where she had to work, and it was uncomfortably hot. _The older I get, the more cynical I get_.

She languished around her house again, wishing that she had an air-conditioner. The heat seemed to be layered; the first was wet, the second was hot, and the third was a skin that kept all the thick humidity inside.

 _I should really do something to look less like a corpse_ , she decided, looking distastefully at her reflection in the mirror. She pulled her hair out from its binding, and let it fall loosely around her face. Her cheeks drew in, giving her the appearance of a sallow skeleton face. _I'm so dead_. She sat on the floor of her bathroom, debating whether it would be a good idea to start the day over again with a shower. She did, but it only left her with cold skin. She didn't feel refreshed or clean. Makeup only revived her complexion slightly.

 _Hmph, who even says that you have to look presentable in your own home?_

Lizzy took each hour minute by minute, and each minute brought its own revelation. By the end of the day, she had discovered how pointless life was, among other things. _Is this what life is? I have nothing here, do I?_

She made herself eat, but she wasn't hungry. She picked up a book. It was probably interesting, but Lizzy had never read it. It was a gift from the past Christmas.

There was really no point in continuing the day. Lizzy was just glad when sleep forced her eyes closed. She was exhausted, but unable to rest. No matter how much she wanted to, something stood between her and the gates of dreaming. But when dreams did come, she regretted wishing for them.

 _Depression was a dreadful, beautiful woman, and she stood above Lizzy, ready to plunge another blade deeply into her chest._

 _"No!" Lizzy cried, only to find that her voice too had been cruelly denied existence. She could only beg and plead mouthed words, silently gulping like a humiliated fish._

 _Depression grinned, her incision-like mouth splitting at veined and stitched angles, forming a terrifying expression. Her eyes danced, and were so falsely kind. Behind them was hate, and a swirling gaze of hopelessness._

 _She brought a sword high above her head, and arced its point downward to meet Lizzy's heart, where it joined a battlefield of bloodied, buried hilts._

 _Lizzy staggered to her feet, and for once the woman did not sit on her chest, tauntingly. She allowed Lizzy to leave the chain enclosure, knowing that she wouldn't get far, and that the blood trail would be heavy; easily traceable. There could be no hope for escape._

 _Lizzy stumbled through her own life, the decorations on the walls were memories that would be bland because she had only been pretending to be happy. Her friends and family saw her, and smiled. Couldn't they see how much pain she felt, or the wounds? An entire chestful of knives, and they couldn't they see the seeping blood?_

 _Lizzy collapsed. Depression had another knife ready for her breathing lungs, and one prepared to carve out her soul. Needles were for her eyes, so that she could never see any hope again, and chains for her hands, so that she could remember that she would never be allowed to escape the nightmare, even when she woke up._

* * *

In a distant part of the city, two towns over, past the suburbs and all the people within their small cramped homes, a pianist sat at his instrument and played. People sat in their seats to watch his back, but they could have closed their eyes with the same significance. His performance was for hearing.

Roderich wasn't an extraordinarily interesting looking man. In fact, he had the glasses and professional attire of a school teacher. But his fingers carried the power to draw applause from a crowd, or tears from the soul. Music never failed to astonish him. It's power reached beyond the ears, it touched people's hearts and souls, and could become part of their memories. It had changed his life.

His audience waited as he carefully pounded ivory. _But they don't make these keys out of actual ivory anymore, do they?_ Playing let him think, and usually it was very difficult for him to express anything, but music did it for him; the perfect channel to play his emotions on. _Is that why you always play sad music?_ He was glad that his beta-blockers were providing numbness. _They work._ Without them, his hands would shake too much, and he didn't think he'd be fearless enough to play in front of so many people. _People who came here to hear you_ , he allowed himself a little pride at the thought, before correcting it. _No, people came here to hear Chopin._

He finished. The audience stood, and clapped. It was so loud, and he couldn't even see their faces through the stage-lights. He left, and Feliks was offstage waiting for him.

"You sounded good. What was that song again?"

"Fantaisie Impromptu. Frédéric Chopin."

"Hey," Feliks drew out the vowel sound, "Wasn't he that Polish dude?" He fluttered his eyelashes in an exaggerated manner. "Kind of looked like a girl?"

"Yes."

"You're, like, so brief today. You didn't even complain about me insulting Chopin, or whatever. What's on your mind?"

"Lizzy." Roderich said quietly. "I've just got a bad feeling about her. I feel like something happened."

"Probably just stage nerves." Feliks said, and then smiled. "Aww, you two should really go out again."

Roderich rolled his eyes, up and past the wire rims of his spectacles. "It didn't really work out. I think we're both satisfied with remaining friends."

"Okay." Feliks pouted. "But if anything happens, just remember that I called it."

"I've moved on. She has too. We're just friends."

"Well, you're concerned about her. That means that you guys can still be friends. Or something." He wiggled his slanted eyebrows with a mischievous look in his catlike, green eyes.

Roderich ignored him. "I'm going to go find Feli. He's probably somewhere out there, if he hasn't gotten lost."

"Yeah, well I wouldn't put it past him. He could get lost anywhere." Feliks said. Roderich nodded, knowingly.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please Review.**

 **Nasty humidity is nasty. And a wild ostrich appears! (Yes, this is a terrible pun based on the fact that the German word for Austria is Österreich. I'll stop now.** **)**

 **Roderich - Austria**

 **Feliks - Poland**

 **Feli(ciano) - Italy**


	7. Normal for Normal

Gilbert was glad that Ludwig was home. He didn't know what he would have done, unsupervised. This also meant having to be interrogated about the visit to the counselor's office.

"It went pretty well. We talked about how I felt, and what options we have from here. Of course, counseling is one of those options." Gilbert explained vaguely. But Ludwig far too intelligent for that.

"What questions did she ask you?" It was itself a clever question, and one with the intention of extracting more information than it appeared to. If Gilbert told him the questions she asked, he would be obliged to tell his brother what the answer was. _I might as well have him come along to the whole thing if he's just going to pry everything out of me anyway_.

"Umm...I can't remember everything. She asked about my insurance."

"Be serious, Gilbert. This is important to you, and to me." Ludwig said, in a reprimanding tone.

"Okay, so she asked about how I felt." Gilbert wasn't going to go beyond that if it wasn't necessary.

"And, what did you say?" Ludwig prompted.

 _Of course I couldn't evade it that easily_.

"I told her the truth. I'm depressed, and I want out."

"Is there anything you aren't telling me."

"Yeesh, Luddy. You're so inquisitive. I don't think there's anything else."

"What about that girl that called here yesterday."

 _Always has something in mind. Never could be a normal conversation. Always a motive, Luddy. Did I teach you that? Please tell me I didn't. You're never going to get a girlfriend that way.._.

"Yeah, her name is Lizzy. She's really nice, and not afraid of strangers." he smiled.

"What did you do, brother?" Ludwig asked concernedly.

"I was kind of on her doorstep when I was looking for the bus-stop. And then she told me how to get there."

"Gilbert, you can't do that! You could get arrested. What if the person was less sweet-tempered, and pulled out a gun and shot you? Or called the police? Besides, I asked you if you knew where the bus stop was before you left, and you said that you did."

"Well that just shows how little you know. I'm way too awesome to be arrested. Besides, I didn't need her help. I could have found it with my sense of direction. It was just a nice thought."

"I can't believe..." Ludwig muttered.

Gilbert put extra effort into trying to sound like his ordinary self around Ludwig. He hoped that it put his brother at ease.

Within in him, worms of self-hate were writhing. They whispered terrible things. All he could do was tell his impressionable soul that they weren't true.

Before he went to bed, he prayed. "Dear God," his heart felt something deep, and fearful, "Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Please help me." He knelt, bleeding out words from his mind into quiet intonations. _No one can hear you,_ something whispered. Gilbert was afraid that it was himself. And he knew that this was a someone he didn't want to be.

* * *

Ten minutes of traffic, and two radio songs later, Lizzy was at her job, and she hated it. She worked in the editing office of a local newspaper. Editing might have been an interesting job, but Lizzy was merely a secretary.

She entered the office, and waved to the receptionist. _I hate all these people_. Maybe she didn't actually hate them, but she wished that her interactions with them would be fewer.

"Have you seen the print-out that was on my desk, Lizzy?" someone named Annie asked.

"Sorry, no. I hope you find it." Lizzy kept walking.

She wasn't paid enough to be everyone's secretary, but she always seemed to be fetching prints or caffeine for the editors.

As she rounded the corner into the main office where she worked, she had a flashing thought. _My job could be the reason I'm depressed_. This revelation came with a certain hopefulness. It would give her a reason to quit. But she needed the money, and it didn't seem connected.

The week passed easily for some people, but for Lizzy and Gilbert, it was agonizing. Time was the most efficient and slow torture that could possibly be inflicted. Because it was patient, and it needed no tools of pain; only a victim and itself.

Lizzy thought more about how short her life would be, even if it was comprised of all these little seconds that held the weight of eternity, it seemed. Gilbert hadn't talked to his counselor or done anything in a week, and Ludwig was becoming suspicious.

Gilbert could have escaped, but he called Lizzy the next Saturday.

"Hi! How have you been?"

Lizzy considered, before remembering that he still thought she was in recovery. "I'm doing well. How are you?"

It was Gilbert's turn to lie. But it was unfair question to begin. "Normal-ish." he laughed slightly.

"Normal for depression, or normal for normal?" Lizzy asked.

"What does normal even mean?"

"I guess we'll never know." she said,"Have you felt any worse?"

"Not really."

"Well that's good." she said through a smile, "But you should still go talk to Michelle again. Even if you don't like counseling, she can arrange other options."

It seemed like a very deep friendship had taken root in a very small window of time, and Lizzy didn't stop to think. It didn't need to be long though. Something was there, whether it was only their shared tragedy, or some card-draw of fate.

They were friends because they needed to be. Without depression, each would likely have passed out of the other's life, and with it, neither could truly appreciate a meaningful companionship.

* * *

Ludwig corrected his posture. It had been an hour since he had sat down to do research, and he still wasn't satisfied with the results.

The computer screen glowed light into his eyes, as he meticulously glossed through a page with number listings. He rolled his eyes and closed it out. Unhelpful.

He had a row of tabs open on coping with anxiety, and another selection devoted to helping someone with depression. But nothing had delved into the methods.

The anxiety was for himself, and he hoped that solving Gilbert's problems would reduce his own. His real irritation came with the vagueness of the articles.

 _Of course you continue to be supportive. I already know that. I need physical solutions, not obvious advice._

A web page recommended open conversation. _That would be great, if he'd actually talk to me about it. It's like he doesn't want help._

But as much grief as Gilbert caused Luddy, the brothers looked out for each other, as was obvious when Ludwig suddenly bought a lock box, and started putting away dangerous items, after reading an article about suicide prevention within the household.

Ludwig was efficient, not emotional. Depression was a problem, and it needed a tactile solution. Unfortunately, by nature it was not a simple, clear-cut problem with a corresponding solution, and this bothered Ludwig. It was taking his older brother away from him. The brother who had raised him, always obnoxiously cheerful, and arrogant, was quieter, and even forced himself to laugh.

He would have never believed that anything could have knocked out Gilbert's complete obstinance, but now he seemed ready to give in to any force, be it large or small. There had been a moment when Ludwig felt the wind almost knocked out of him as he realized how dangerous and real this was.

Gilbert didn't have the face or personality to hide depression. If Ludwig felt terrible, it didn't show much differently in his demeanor or body language. But every inch of Gilbert resisted and detested self-hate. It was unnatural for someone so prideful to be brought so low.

His next step would be to call their father. He would know what to do, even if communicating with him would be unpleasant. *

"Gilbert, come here." Ludwig called out to the house.

"Arghh." came the response from the upper room. Gilbert stumbled down into the living room. "What is it Luddy? I was sleeping."

"You were playing on your phone in bed. Just look at this." He pulled up a tab. There on a background of white computer screen was a photo of a young man, dressed elegantly in a suit.

"Eww, is Roderich sending us self-portraits again, or did someone photograph cat vomit?"

"Read it." Ludwig said grimly.

It took Gilbert a moment to realize that it was a news article, and that the headline was " _Local Musician Attempts Suicide Jump Off Concert Hall Building_."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading. Please Review!**

 **Note: The term "Normal for normal" is one that comes from a real life discussion with a friend of mine. So, I thought it's be interesting to include it.**


	8. Breath Mark

The email was long, and Gilbert didn't even feel like reading it. But Ludwig just sat here with the page open, and it called to him like a siren.

 _From: Feliks Łukasiewicz_

 _To: Vash Zwingli, Ludwig Beilschmidt, Gilbert Beilschmidt, Elizaveta Héderváry_

 _Subject: Roderich_

 _Hi all. I know this is unexpected, especially coming from me. I've linked the article here, but I just wanted to tell you what happened in my own words._

 _Last night Roderich was performing. He was on beta-blockers, and after the show he came out to talk to me. He sounded very stable, but he said something uncharacteristic; he felt that something bad was happening to someone else that he knew. Then he went out into the audience to look for Feli, but he must have made it onto the roof from the back staircase instead._

 _I looked for him, but he was gone. He jumped off the very top of the building, and he's in the hospital now. I don't know how he's doing. I'll tell you when I find out, since I'm the only one here in the city. That being said, I would majorly appreciate any backup from you guys (For example: Taking care of Feli, who is currently staying with me, while I go to work/sort things out). You might not all know each other, but we all knew Roderich. Please pray that he gets better. Roderich was a good person, and if he doesn't make it out of this, I'd like to arrange something nice for him, with all of your input, consideration, and participation._

 _I'm not going to pretend to be a storyteller. I just thought that you have the right to know everything that happened, rather than just the vague newspaper article._

 _Thank you,_

 _Feliks_

* * *

Lizzy opened her email to stare death in the face. She wished that she didn't feel so empty and uncaring while she read it. This was sad news. Why wasn't she sad?

 _I'm a terrible person. This is really bad. Roddy could die! I need to...feel something._

She felt nothing. _P_ _lease, I just want to cry. I don't even care anymore. Why can't I care?_

Instead, Lizzy felt the surging desire to scream. She followed the urge outside, onto the stairs.

"I JUST WANT TO BE HUMAN AGAIN!" she sang with anger out to the whole world, especially to the beautiful sky. Why did it get to be so lovely? She didn't have the option of being pretty, untouchable, and loftily above the world and its problems. If depression had really been the palpable woman from her dreams, she would have pulled a sword from her own beating heart and plunged it into the other's face with as many stabs as there were stars in the sky.

 _I'm going to lose him too, aren't I? I lose everything. And I won't even be able to care that he's gone._

The world seemed determined to break those who could feel its weight. And all others who could not see the pain that these world holders felt would go on, their very faces mocking as they lived in oblivious ignorance.

Lizzy laughed."Even death can't hurt me anymore. Bring your worst, life!"

* * *

Feliks stared blankly at his open email, and realized that for once, he was at a loss for words. Nothing came to mind, except for the horror that he had felt, staring at his friend's body, bloody on concrete. He could still hear sirens, the background of people behind him whispering, and one of them must have called 911, because he hadn't.

But why did Feli have to see it? _I'm an adult. It hurt a lot, but I can stomach it. But Feli's just a kid. It's not fair that he had to see Roderich like that_.

The boy looked stunned, and didn't seem to recognize his foster father. Then, as if reality had suddenly decided to break the glass between safe incomprehension and complete, crashing, painful understanding. Feli cried, and lunged for the body. Someone grabbed him, but it wasn't Feliks. He wished he could have been a pair of strong, comforting arms. _But no. I'm just going to kneel here, listen to Feli cry, and look at Roderich dying_.

Feliks blinked out of his memory, and picked his phone out of his pocket. The cursor throbbed on the white, empty page, waiting for words. "Toris. You need to come over. Right now." he said.

His friend dutifully came, without any knowledge of why. "I, like, need you to write an email for me." Feliks's voice caught on the thorns in his own sharp breaths.

"Okay." Toris said, calmly, unknowingly preparing to perform a terrible duty, positioning his fingers on the keyboard.

Feliks dictated, and Toris wrote. Toris was himself slowly learning the story of what had happened. But no matter how shocking, he transcribed, and rewrote what Feliks had managed into something readable.

Then Feliks started to cry, without stopping his speech.

Toris stopped his friend gently. "I don't know what you're saying."

"Toris." Feliks grabbed for his friend, who inhaled slightly before enveloping his friend into a racking embrace.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please Review.**

 **Toris - Lithuania**


	9. Lamentations

The hospital was comparatively spotless; the comparison being Feliks living room. Feliciano had strewn stuffed animals all around the room, in some sort of comforting environment. This wasn't Feliks's idea of a comforting area, but he allowed the boy to sit among his toys, and mourn in his own way.

 _Don't say mourn. He isn't dead yet_.

But to such a little child, especially one who had already known far too much separation, this must have seemed like another loss. Feli had even adapted to losing people. First his real mother and father, who he couldn't remember, and then his grandfather, his brother had been separated in the foster care system, and most recently, his best friend had moved away. Now his father and piano teacher. But his small mind had already grown accustomed to the idea that there was no more Roderich, just like there was no more Mom, Dad, Grandpa, Lovino, or best friend.

"Feliks, why did Miss Lizzy stop visiting us?"

Feliks looked wearily up from the papers he had been sorting through. "I don't know. Roddy decided to marry his piano instead." It was supposed to be funny, for both their sakes, but it just made Feliks feel worse, and Feliciano looked about to burst into tears. _I guess I should tell him the "good news" now. He's going to cry anyway_.

"I've got to go to work, so my friend is going to come over and watch you for a while, okay?"

That pushed Feliciano over the edge. Anything that left his presence became fair game for permanent loss, from his perspective. He had become attached to the closest breathing thing within his residence.

"No! Please don't leave me."

"I'm sorry, Feli, but we've got to eat. I promise that Toris is really nice. He's even got a younger brother that he might bring over."

Feliciano was having none of it, but Feliks found himself having to firmly lay out the day's schedule to a crying kid. _Since when am I into schedules? I hope I'm taller than him, or the whole height hierarchy isn't going to work._

Feliks left, Toris substituted for Feliks. He even brought the promised younger brother, who would have regularly been the polar opposite of Feliciano in energy and personality, but was equally subdued next to the grieving child.

* * *

Darkness fell on the Beilschmidt house like a voracious, black bird. Ludwig contemplated his strange relationship with Roderich Edelstein. They were friends, some of the time. They couldn't tolerate each other under the same roof, but in occasional situations, they could be civil. Gilbert and Roderich, on the other hand, could not. Something about the chemistry of Gilbert; unruly, wild, arrogant, clashed with Roderich's civilized temperament. It made everything awkward, as being friends with your brother's self-proclaimed rival (at what, Ludwig would never understand) was both very seriously and affectionately considered "fraternizing with the enemy".

Then, he figured that this news would also resonate with Vash, another who had differences in opinion with Roderich, but would still be upset it the man died.

Gilbert was upset. He had gone back upstairs without another word. And though Ludwig heard noises, he couldn't tell what his brother was doing.

Gilbert locked himself within the small room he had commandeered from his brother. He suddenly felt overwhelming loss, as if a part of his body had been pulled out. There was a pain in his heart, and the only things he could think about was the thought of Roderich, dead. He could see nothing but the color of his wall in a blurred waterfall, his eyes were so filled with tears.

 _This isn't fair. Why?_ Life came in with a bulldozer to assure everyone, especially Gilbert, that it wasn't fair. People died, and that was life.

He grabbed for something to break. The closest thing was a book, sitting as an innocent bystander on the desk. He threw it at the floor, and it sat motionless where it had landed, the golden lettering glittering up at him, the cover reading "The Bible".

 _Why? Why would anyone do that?_

Gilbert hoped that he would never understand suicide.

* * *

There was no note, and Feliks desperately hoped that Roderich wouldn't end up needing one to go along with a successful suicide.

A nurse outside the door had reported that his condition has worsened. There was a break in his skull where pavement had met such an intellectual mind.

Feliks entered the room expecting the worst, and what he found was only slightly better.

It might as well have been an open casket funeral, from Roderich's appearance. He was hooked up to numerous tubes and medicines, pumping into his body. His skin looked ready to fall right off, and the darkness under his closed eyes looked about to cave in and leave behind empty black sockets.

All this was to be considered through the whispers in the back of the mind; the perspective microscope of "Well, he could be dead. That would be worse."

Feliks felt awkward about bringing flowers to his friend, but he didn't need to write his name on the card. Or, he could write Gilbert's name on the card. Feliks smiled, musing over the benefits and drawbacks to actually carrying the idea through.

His phone buzzed against his thigh. Glancing at Roderich as though the man would sit up in affront at being neglected for a moment, Feliks pulled it out.

 _Hey Feliks! I think I can come down over the weekend. How's Toris doing?_ Lizzy had texted.

 _Pretty good, I think. He's actually watching Feli right now._ Feliks responded.

 _Oh yeah. Is Feli doing alright?_

 _He's been really quiet recently. I even made pasta, but he just stared at it. I feel like I wouldn't be a good parent._

 _It's not your fault. He must be under a lot of stress right now._

 _Yeah, he is. I have to go. Bye!_ He finished typing, and put the phone away.

"If this is it, you could at least let us know why." he addressed the corpse-like man, "You know, it isn't, like, cool to leave a party without saying goodbye. But then again, you never were a cool person, were you? You preferred the elegant, and if you had wanted to be mediocre you wouldn't have been such an outstanding musician." He felt his cheek, and was surprised to find more evidence of his emotional fragility. "Gosh, see what you made me do? I'm crying again."

 _Lizzy and I met when we were younger, back when I thought she was a boy. Back when she looked like a boy, and may as well have been for her unlady-like actions._

 _We were the strong. Even Gilbert was included under this banner, in my opinion, as much as he annoyed me. But you, Lizzy, somehow managed to escape the fate of knowing Gilbert until adulthood, and you've bypassed a lot of his egoism._

"You're weak now. But I won't laugh at you." He brushed away more tears. "Look, I'm weak too. I guess we all are. Humans, I mean."

Feliks left the hospital, and prayed again. It had been a long time since he had prayed, but the ashen look upon Roderich's face wouldn't leave his mind.

"Dear God, please let Roderich get to heaven." Feliks prayed with his folded hands, before gripping them around the steering wheel of a car.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please Review.**

 **No Lizzy in this chapter? I've disappointed myself ;)**


	10. The Caravan of Mourners

Before Lizzy could even arrange leaving, Feliks found himself dialing her number with shaking hands. He was calling rather than texting; it seemed more personal and alive. _Alive is good, for now._ He was disappointed when she didn't answer; he had been ready to talk to someone for the first time in weeks. But, he left a message.

" _Hey Lizzy. Given the state of things, and since you're already coming down, maybe prepare to stay an extra day, and bring a black dress. Just in case. Alright, take care. I'll see you soon. Bye!"_

* * *

Grief wasn't abolished in Lizzy's mind, but it had changed. Now it took the form of sleepless passages of time during which Roderich was the only thing she could think about. Then the emptiness within her amplified until it seemed to consume her entirety.

Hollowness wasn't that hard to cope with, but the loneliness was more challenging. She could accept the absence of happiness, and generally all emotion. No, it was not pleasant, but she could live through it without clutching at her head. She only longed to feel again.

Loneliness had many faces. The hardest one was reason; she had friends, and communicated with them. She put on a semblance of health and happiness. It logically made no sense to be lonely. But she was.

Loneliness was cold. It turned friends into strangers, and in Gilbert's case, strangers into friends.

Lizzy shook herself, mentally _. Wake up. This is real life. Roderich could die, and you wouldn't care. You wouldn't care! But you need to, before it's too late!_

But Lizzy's mind couldn't connect anything to her dead feelings.

 _Please! We're wasting our own life!_ Lizzy didn't care if she was crazy to talk to herself.

Lizzy listened to Feliks's message, and tried not to be passive about the situation. After all, Roderich could die. At the very least, if she wasn't upset now, she felt certain that it would catch up to her.

She packed everything she thought she would need, and a little bit more. There wasn't a lot of room in the back of her car. She didn't even use her car a lot; she could walk to most places in the small town.

All bad news seemed to travel by her phone, and as it rang she felt that she really should have just turned it off. But it was merely the messenger, the bearer of bad tidings, and for once the tidings were not bad.

 _I saw that you got the email from Feliks. I didn't know that you knew Feliks or Roderich (who knew we had so many mutual friends?), but I was going to go up anyway. If it isn't too much trouble, maybe I could ride up with you?_

 _Thanks,_

 _Gilbert_

Lizzy responded.

 _Yes._

 _-Lizzy_

She finished loading the back of her car, and looked up to see him standing on her porch again.

"I don't have much luggage." he assured, displaying a single bag.

"Hmm, you pack better than I do." she mused.

"Of course I do. I'm awesome."

Lizzy shook her head, and got into her car, locking all the doors quickly, and with a smile.

Gilbert pulled at each handle. "Let me in, Lizzy." he said, laughing.

She unlocked all the doors, and Gilbert claimed his place in the passenger seat.

The ignition started with a gentle twist of car keys. Gilbert knew they were both thinking the same thing: They were going down to see Roderich die. Painful journeys were the hardest one's to start, especially if you knew the end result.

Lizzy exhaled deeply. "I might need you to take over in an hour."

"Okay. I'll show you how superior I am at driving." Gilbert said jokingly, but found humor to be sour in his mouth. Lizzy laughed politely. "I'm funnier when I'm not depressed." he promised.

"Me too. Speaking of which, have you seen your counselor lately?"

"Yeah, last week. She wanted me to talk to a psychologist. She thought non-medication related mental therapy would be beneficial. I guess I still have to schedule it. But at least I have something 'traumatizing' to report next time I answer a questionnaire."

"Gilbert, are you strangely unaffected by Roderich's...you know. I just haven't felt sad or anything." she confessed, "It's not right. He's my friend, I should be in agony!"

"It's...hit me pretty hard. I think I've forgotten what it felt like to be happy from feeling sad all the time. Frankly, it might be nice to feel nothing, instead of all this sadness."

"No." Lizzy said, slowly, "It's hell. Please, I hope you never have to experience anything like this. To never feel anything is...inhumane. I feel like a robot."

They both stopped, and Gilbert turned on the radio. Mundane news played, as if the world really was spinning regularly around on its axis, and both good and evil were balanced in the world. Life could go on, even in the little mechanical box, but to Lizzy, and to Gilbert, it had stopped.

"Why? Why would he do that?" Lizzy said quietly. "It doesn't hurt, but all I have left is my mind, and it needs to know what was going on."

"I don't know. He was on beta-blockers, so maybe they did something weird to his mind."

"Beta-blockers? Aren't those for numbing emotions...he used them during concerts so he wouldn't get distracted, or afraid."

"Yeah. It could have been that or a thousand other things. Just don't blame yourself, no matter what you can attribute to it."

* * *

"Can we go to the playground, Lizzy?" Feli asked. He had surrounded himself with his toys again. Lizzy found his play area to be creepy, but made no comment on it.

"No, sorry. It's rainy and wet outside." she said.

Feli looked out the window, and smothered some disappointment. It was rainy, but that was why it was fun.

"Miss Lizzy, can you play the piano?"

"No." she said.

"Oh, okay. Can Gilbert play the piano?"

Gilbert looked up from his phone. Lizzy shrugged. "Why don't you ask him?"

"Do you play piano?" the child addressed Gilbert.

"Haha, probably. I wouldn't be surprised to find it among my many capabilities, kid. What, do you guys have one here?"

"Yes. It's in the living room." Feli stood, and lead Gilbert to the other room. Lizzy watched them leave, and then quickly disassembled Feli's "living zoo sculpture". The plastic eyes in the animal's plush skulls were far too piercing for her liking. After tidying them away into a plastic container, she went towards the general sound of commotion, coming from where she assumed Gilbert was attempting to play the piano.

He wasn't merely playing, he was offering music lessons. "Here's white key number 3, and it makes a sound like this." he pressed the key, and hummed in unison with the note it produced.

"That's Middle C." Feli informed him.

"Heh, of course I knew that. I was just making sure you knew."

"Can you play anything. I like listening more than anything. But I hate playing scales."

"I will be charging five dollars a ticket, thank you very much."

Feli laughed, a beautiful sound that continued as if it had been trapped somewhere deep inside of him, and needed to be released, with bursts of uncontained happiness.

 _The kid deserves that much: to laugh at some things, to feel bad about things that are genuinely bad. I hope he turns out better than we adults did._

"I know that I learned how to play Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Technically, it's called," he took a breath, "The Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor "Quasi una fantasia", Op. 27, No. 2. But very few people are talented enough to memorize that. I am though, by the way."

He turned to face the piano, and began with the arpeggiated, heartbreaking opening measures.

Lizzy watched them both; Gilbert's face straining to remember every note, Feli's eyes caught in a gaze of wide-eyed amazement.

 _Gilbert hides his depression so well. Mine is as obvious as if I really were filled with knives. I shouldn't burden people with this. It's just so hard to know how to pretend to be normal._

The last chords were like tolling bells. Gilbert considered his audience's expressions. _On second thought, maybe I should have chosen something less sad._ Feli was crying again. Lizzy looked ready to, but then he remembered with a sinking stone in his stomach, that she couldn't, no matter how much she wanted to.

His fingers burst into a simple waltz. He couldn't see it, but behind him, Lizzy had taken Feli's hands, and was dancing him around the room.

* * *

Ludwig was left all alone to contemplate mortality. It was not a comforting thought, knowing that your own brother had a disease that made him prone to self-harm. Roderich wasn't helping anything. Everyone wanted to know why. Ludwig did too, but he was more concerned with how likely it was to happen to his own brother.

 _Death changes people. Depression changes people. Wouldn't it be impossible for Gilbert to get out of this unchanged, without any battle scars? It's fine as long as he doesn't kill himself._

He checked his phone. Gilbert had said something about arriving safely, and watching Feli. Ludwig smiled. Roderich's son was a good kid. He remembered how strange the news had been when he had first received it.

 _"I'm going to be adopting a child from Foster Care." Roderich stated, always to the point._

 _"Good luck." Ludwig had said, all other questions aside, drenched in his typical efficiency. Children were hard to care for, Ludwig knew, despite not having much experience with them. Unless you counted his older brother, in which case he had his full share of "No, don't touch that you'll break it." and such._

* * *

Feliks was being driven mad with confusion. There was no note, that he could find. He had ripped apart every drawer in Roderich's house, under pillows, in the concert hall. None.

He didn't want to bury his friend empty-handed, or without explanation.

He wanted to say that it made no sense, but he knew that you could never say something was impossible. _Was he suffering this entire time, and never saying anything to us? I mean I know he wasn't my best friend, but he could have at least said something._ Feliks stopped to realize that he could very well be blaming a dead man, or at least one that did not have very long yet to live.

* * *

Feli lingered in the living room longer than Lizzy or Gilbert. He wanted to be alone, he had requested it. They left, and he sat kingly at the piano stool. He touched the keys, hoping that something on them could resurrect people that had played it vigorously. _Don't you care?_ he thought viciously, words for himself. _He gave his entire life to you! Why couldn't you stop him from falling?_

Words, an answer, stared back at him, through the grates behind the music holder. The note read, from what was visible,

 _I have spent my entire life not telling people what I thought, and instead making them hear it. I have no plan to kill myself, I have no reason to other than nothing. Life has become nothing. Music is sacred, and I am not even worthy enough to be its medium anymore. I could go on living like this, and maybe I will. I have no intention of ending my life, but I will not stop myself if the pain becomes too much._

 _\- Roderich Edelstein._

Feli thought, letting selfishness overcome guilt for an instant, _what about me?_ He wondered if Roderich had remembered right before touching the ground.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please review.**

 **Poor little Feli, don't be so guilty! I realize that it is probably confusing to have a "Feli" and a "Feliks". Oh well. (Also, apparently this word program thinks that "Feliks" should be corrected to "Lifelike")**


	11. Requiem for Pianist and Wailing Ensemble

Roderich kept having dreams ( _really, it's all just one, long dream_ , he reasoned, as it never seemed to end), where he was falling weightlessly through endless darkness. The abyss had no visible bottom, and he kept having the strange, terrified feeling through his abdomen. But oh, his head hurt…

He wished that he could actually sleep. This dream was restless, as if the surrounding pitch-dark embankment was waiting for something.

The throbbing in his skull was constant, it never changed. Even if he closed his eyes, the darkness didn't change. He was so accustomed to falling, that he felt stationary in the air.

Roderich couldn't speak, but his thoughts streamed. _I feel like I'm dying. My whole life is escaping through the hole in my head, and I can't even see the ground._

Eventually, even falling lost its thrilling sensation. He just wanted to know why he was falling, and what was at the bottom. _Why haven't I hit ground yet?_

Something was keeping him in an endless death-bed state. He should have hit the ground, but he kept falling, because something prevented him. Whether it was an act of torture or mercy was another thing entirely.

The answer resurfaced, hitting him with more force than the ground could break his body with ( _if he were to suddenly reach it._ )

 _Feli. Oh no, Feli. What have I done?_ He felt the familiar swell of dream emotions and tears, all inflated because of his mind.

Roderich clawed around desperately in the air, grasping for something, anything to prevent a collision with earth. _Oh Feli! I need to get home. Maybe when I wake up-_

But Roderich did not wake up.

The next morning, a nurse inspected a heart monitor. A line indicated a sudden and erratic heart rate during the night with jagged mountains of a line, and then a complete plateau.

The nurse covered his face with a towel from the bedside.

* * *

Gilbert was scared to answer his phone. When he did, Feliks had him cornered. It sounded like it took a tremendous amount of effort for the poor man to say a single word.

"R-roderich...he passed away last n-night."

If someone had fired a bullet through Gilbert's heart, he thought that it would have felt similar. He was surprised, because while he had thought he'd been prepared for the worst, deep down something said that Roderich couldn't possibly die. First came shock, which was a colorless sensation; no pain, only a rush, like that of wind, slamming into him. But next came pain, where the bullet would have entered. It felt as if his own life was flashing before his eyes.

Of course it hurt, and mixed with sadness, Suddenly, a thousand memories came to him, some with regret, others merely overflowing something within him as he understood the reality.

Roderich would never breath again.

Finally, there was anger, not only at Roderich, but at everything. The news still resonated within his mind, circling with disbelief.

 _WHY? Why did it take his death for me to see him as a friend?_

They had always been opposing forces, almost enemies. It had gotten too close to actual resentment for either of them to pass it off as friendly antagonism. _But we were friends, right?_

Death was so powerful, but Gilbert couldn't let him win. All his defenses down, everything he cared about unguarded, Gilbert whispered, "Okay. Thank you," back to Feliks.

He had already hung up. Gilbert turned to Lizzy. She looked back at him with some apprehensive questioning.

"Roderich is dead." he choked, his words blunt.

Lizzy looked unaffected. _Oh yeah, she can't feel it_ Gilbert thought, almost jealously. She closed her eyes for a while.

"Feli, come here. I need to talk to you." she called upstairs.

Gilbert heard little, joyful footfalls coming down the stairs. He wanted to plead Lizzy not to subject the child to any more pain, but he knew it would only hurt later, if not instantly.

Feli received the news well, as in not at all. He shut off after they had started trying to explain it to him. If it wasn't real, it couldn't hurt him.

He went upstairs, and decided to cry later. He knew he could. Even Gilbert was crying. Feliks would be crying. But Lizzy wasn't crying, and Feliciano decided that Lizzy could be sad without crying. Instead she comforted those who were sad. He wanted to be like her. After all, there was nothing to cry about.

* * *

Feliks lost it. He was tired of organizing everything, but since he didn't need to anymore, he felt empty. He had been holding everything together, and now it had all fallen apart. Roderich was supposed to recover. That's how it should have been.

 _No. Life hates me. It couldn't work out in the end._

Everything he could think of doing seemed pointless. He had to make phone calls, but besides this obligation, he just wanted to lay down, and sleep.

He made the calls, listened to people cry, cried to himself, and when all was done, fell on his own bed.

He ignored the piling emails. They could all wait, he thought, knowing it was selfish.

Toris had to physically break into his house to get any communication out of him.

"Feliks..." he panted, "I had to climb through your bathroom window. Why wouldn't you answer the front door? Are you okay?"

Toris was never this inquisitive, and rarely so persistent in counter to Feliks's definite stubbornness.

"I'm fine Toris. It's _all_ fine. I just didn't feel like talking to anyone. But you. And now you're here. Yay!" Everything in his voice sounded dead.

"No, you're not okay. Feliks, you need to tell me, or I can't help you."

"H-he's gone. I tr-tried so h-hard," he gasped for breath, "...I-I prayed, and I h-hoped, and then he's just...gone." Feliks sobbed.

Once again, Toris was there for his friend to hold. He was something to sob into, but Feliks couldn't see his friend's tears.

* * *

Lizzy put on her black dress, and hated the color. It meant not only the death of Roderich, but her own, inside.

The funeral was small, held at an even smaller church. The attendance consisted of uncrying Lizzy, crying Gilbert, a weary looking Feliks next to Feli who wavered in his indifference at seeing Roderich's body, Ludwig who had cried, Vash who tried to look sour, as he himself grieved, and comforted his younger sister.

The service was done hastily, as they each only had a slot of time in which to gather before rushing back into busy life. Lizzy needed to be back to work by the next day, and she had the shortest drive.

They put their friend to rest, and Lizzy felt that she wouldn't remember her friend's face. She couldn't stop them from closing the lid on the casket, or burying it in the ground. But she dropped an edelweiss onto the cover, before everything was capped by dirt.

 _I'm missing out on so much excitement in my own life_ she thought. _When I get better, I'll have to remember to cry about this. I would have cried a lot about this, if I were normal._

Gilbert shed more tears than he had thought possible. He just couldn't stop. _Weak. Shut up,_ he told himself.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please Review!**

 **It really hurt to write this. I AM SO SORRY! *sobs***

 **Once again, I feel like this chapter moved very quickly. You can blame NaNoWriMo for that.**

 **Also: I love concrit, so please feel free to critique. I really want to improve.**

 **Guest Review**

 **AI (Chapter 10): Thank you! I was confused about that, because I couldn't find anything definitive when I researched Beta Blockers. I'll go back and edit that. Thankfully I think that with some rephrasing, the beta blockers can still be a plot point, as I have found evidence that some people who take Beta Blockers for anxiety have experienced emotion dampening as a side effect. Again, thank you!**


	12. Regressing Towards Familiar Activity

"You're so beautiful with your hair down." Roderich wasn't good at saying what he thought outloud. Often his sentences fell apart in front of others, or he didn't say what he had intended. Music was different. It let him say things without even opening his mouth. He would never have to open his mouth or talk to people if he could just play them music all the time to tell them things.

Lizzy was different because she listened. She sat and heard every note, and could absorb what it meant in the context of Roderich.

The choice between music and Lizzy had been a difficult one for Roderich to make. He had never really decided in his mind, but in his actions he chose the elder. The actions were not even all his own; Lizzy had prompted him, saying that she wouldn't be upset if he decided to follow his own path, but just that she wanted him to be happy.

That was Lizzy, behind all her anger and complications, she was kind. Her reassuring words only made it more difficult. He wanted both, but could have neither perfectly in coexistence with the other.

Lizzy listened so well that Roderich wouldn't speak at all to her at times. He would say it was because he was so delighted in being able to play for her, and sometimes she would disagree with him, but mostly she never said anything. This quiet wounding was really what ended them.

Somewhere in this past, Lizzy could have met Gilbert. Perhaps in another world she would have known him earlier on in their lives. But they had never met, despite Roderich. And now Roderich had brought them back, and he wasn't even alive anymore.

Lizzy was sick of it. She felt sick and weak, and that was worse than pain. No matter how much sadness or happiness was pumped into her body, she felt the same; drained of life. She didn't speak to Gilbert for the first half hour of their journey back into the small box town. When he did speak, it was not to her, but under his breath. It was not about her either.

"I'm suffering too." she said. "I know that it seems like it would be better not to feel anything, but it isn't. I want to be human."

"Lizzy, you're safe. It can't hurt you." he said. It was meant to be reassuring, but Lizzy flared up, like a match.

"Do you want me to be sad all the time? I hate this hell. I can't sleep, I can't feel happiness. I can't even cry at my friend's funeral!"

"Stop," he whispered. "You know I don't want you to be depressed."

Lizzy laughed. Then it broke, and her laughter turned into sobbing. "Well I'm sorry! I'm not a faucet to be turned on and off again. If I could stop this, I would. I'm sorry that I can't stop apologizing. Why does everyone think they know who I am, how I feel? No one will ever understand this. It can't happen. You'll never have the same coursing pain shoot through your brain and heart and soul. Is it fair that every time I see another person my only thought is 'Why do they get to be happy? Why not me?' Life doesn't purport to be fair, and it surely hasn't been to me, or anyone else from what I have seen. Maybe I don't understand how you feel, but it doesn't matter how much it hurts us in comparison, only that we help each other. I just want to be happy." Lizzy's voice cracked. "I want to cry. I want my laughter to feel real."

"Oh, Lizzy." Gilbert said, in a hurting voice.

Then, neither could find words behind swelling emotions (or absence of these), so they sat silently, thinking.

Lizzy wished that she hadn't had to leave Feli behind, with that look on his face.

After two hours, Gilbert had condensed enough feeling into thought, and enough thought into words. "Lizzy, I'm not accusing you of anything, but you told me that you weren't depressed anymore. You said that it was getting better, and that you were off meds. I hadn't remembered that until now."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I guess I kind of forgot to tell you during all this...commotion. It's been back, and I'm trying to get back on medication."

 _I didn't want to hurt you. That's the kind of person you've become to me_.

Blame wasn't spoken, or thought by Lizzy. Gilbert knew she wasn't going to point fingers; she was far too kind for that. But deep down, he could see the start of her anguish. Hadn't they met, and that very same day she had been getting better while he got worse. _Did I drag her back into this with me?_

Lizzy had been on the outside of a prison looking in, but now they both looked outwards. Gilbert would never forgive himself for that.

The night pulled across the sky, and the stars were lit. Gilbert hated himself. Lizzy was an empty glass container, without the notion of a soul.

Something in the sky seemed to plunge downward. It could have been plane lights, or some other man-made object, but for a moment Lizzy pretended that it was a falling star. She would not place her hopes in it, for the capsule would be far too delicate for all her heavy wishes. She had no hope anyway, it had also been taken from her. Instead she let it symbolize everything that had gone wrong leaving the sky.

 _For us. For those who are no longer with us. For Felli, and Feliks, and anyone else who can't stop crying._

It must have been an airplane, as something red became a visible flashing light, and it was no longer sinking through the clouds.

"Pull over here Lizzy, I'll drive."

They parked near a field. Lizzy opened the driver's door, and got out within the highway's margin. Car's went quickly past her. _One step into the road would be enough..._

She stared fascinated at the possibility in front of her.

Gilbert had gotten out into a weedy ditch, and circled around the car. "Hey, are you alright?" he asked Lizzy.

"Yeah." she said, sounding distracted.

 _Roadkill_. The word came to her, and seemed to be faintly beautiful. She shook her head, and hiked through the ankle-height grass, into the grassy gutter, and then climb up into the passenger seat. It was still warm.

"Do you need to stop for coffee?" she said, seeing his eyes clench shut for a moment.

"No, I'm fine. Only an hour from here, right. My apologies, I shouldn't have let you drive so long in the first place."

"It's fine."

 _I'm not fine. I'm terrible_ , Gilbert thought, privately. He could weather sadness, but this self-hatred promised to be more than an outside force that he daily dealt with, or guarded against; he was fighting himself.

He turned the radio back on. Music filled the car, and Lizzy rested her head against the window, trying to catch the sleep that always escaped her, or else provided another opening for her own disease.

 _Goodnight._

* * *

Feli didn't have to go to bed with doubt. He was to young to know the difficulties that would surround giving him a new home.

He knew that he would have to find and lose another family. This was his understanding, and now it all made sense. Family was to have, and then to have taken away. Nothing lasted forever. It wasn't meant to.

The more special and dear it was, the more it hurt to take away, and the more likely that it would be taken.

* * *

Feliks had to sort through the custodial processes. As of that moment, Feli could stay with him, but eventually he would have to go back. Until then, the child moved out of Roderich's house, and into Feliks's modest, and messy one-story rental.

Toris changed his work schedule so that he could alternate in watching Feli. The drive over from his apartment was short, and his own brothers liked going over to help him.

After everyone had left, Feliks knew that Roderich was gone too. This should have been more obvious. But life couldn't go on without another performance, even though it would. _Does every person on the Earth experience this at least once? They all must know someone who will die, or who has. How do they go on?_

He was very much propelled by his own goals, which were only now firmer in his mind than they had been before. Feliks wanted to be a nurse, and it would happen. He would pay his debt for Community College, and work with people who would die, and those who would live.

 _If I didn't have a dream, if I didn't have a purpose, or Toris, or anything to hold on too, I might fall too_.

The newspaper obituary read: "Edelstein, Roderich, 25. A wonderful friend and talented musician, passed away on July 2, 2015. Memorial donations may be made in Roderich's name to the National Adoption Center and the Children's Orchestra Program."

It was too short, to disgustingly bland for Roderich. Feliks had supplied the 'wonderful' in an attempt to add some color. He hoped his friend could see that, wherever he was.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please Review!**

 **Also, i** **t's my birthday!**

 **It's official: I am the queen of writing two pages worth of one scene, and then another unrelated POV, only an inch long. Sorry Feli, you got a disproportionately short scene for all the time I devoted to Lizzy and Gil.**


	13. Self-Hate, Self-Harm, Self-Help

Ludwig met his brother at the door, where they needed to say nothing, but fell into a stiff, muscular embrace. This time Ludwig did not question Gilbert about his emotional state. Instead, he pointed to the calendar, and announced that he had arranged a weekly schedule of counseling appointments for Gilbert in his absence.

"Whenever I go, you always reorganize all my stuff." Gilbert complained, as he flipped through piles of car part magazines that had been stacked neatly on the coffee table, as opposed to their regular array; flipped and spread all about the table, so that there was no available seating for anything else.

"It isn't for you. It's for my own sanity." Ludwig said.

"Yeah, sure. You're too organized for your own good, Luddy."

"I could have thrown them away. You will never rebuild a car engine, Gilbert."

"I could so. I just haven't done it yet."

"You've kept some of these since your Senior Year of High School. That was before you even had a car."

"Lalalala, I can't hear you!" Gilbert grinned.

But long after Ludwig had gone to sleep, Gilbert crept downstairs, and disposed of the magazine stack. _Another fault_. They made a smooth, sliding sound as they went down the plastic trash bag's taut slope, and hit the ground of the garbage can.

 _I cannot atone. Something insane is taking residence inside my head. Soon I will hate every aspect of myself. Is this because I've spent so long being proud? The deadliest sin, huh? I guess I'm paying for that the hard way_. _When did crying become a display of weakness rather than compassion? I guess I've always seen it as weak, I only now see other people as strong, and the weakness is myself._

* * *

Lizzy had no time to consider if she was making a wise decision. She hadn't thought about that when she had promised to marry Roderich in kindergarten either. That hadn't panned out, so maybe she could back out last minute in this endeavor as well.

She looked at her wrists, and then at her kitchen counter, specifically the wooden block sheath for knives. It would hurt, but that was the point. She wanted pain, because pain meant that she was alive. She wasn't numb to everything. But in the end, she couldn't. _I'm too scared, I don't even know what I want_.

But she needed to destroy something. _Probably yourself is not the best idea._ She looked around the room, and was thankful for its emptiness.

There was no talent for Lizzy to suddenly lapse into, as a relief. She needed an outlet, but nothing gave her even remote joy.

But there, like a savior on the counter, sat a camera. She couldn't remember setting it so perfectly obvious on the counter, almost as a message to herself, but there it was. She considered smashing it, but instead pressed the button. Checking her own pictures was like looking into her own mind, from a long time ago. The pictures were special, because they weren't about nature, or mother earth's beauty. Not that these did not deserve proper visual documentation, but Lizzy remembered what she had loved so dearly to capture: human emotion. There were people she didn't know, from off the street. Some of them were unaware of her camera, and their smiles or expressions were an analysis of the human race.

 _This could be my passion, but I won't understand it anymore, will I?_

Anger was most pure in its container; the mind. Once released into the open, it did wild things. It attacked people, it spat out ugly words, all attempting to express the emotion, and all falling so short.

Lizzy kept this anger inside her, although it seemed to be the only thing that hadn't died within her heart and soul. She theorized that her body needed some emotion to fuel existence, so it had created a feeling with no base. The only other fervor that showed its face was irrational fear. It came unexplained, and sat like a guest in Lizzy's mind. She would feel her heart race, and all survival instincts heighten as she carried newspaper stacks at her job.

She couldn't even care that she was falling apart; only pretend to. _But do I really want despair?_

* * *

Self-hatred infected Gilbert. It _had_ become hatred, no longer an annoyance, or anger at himself for failing small things. He hated himself for failing his life.

But it plagued him constantly, or he would have lived with it.

"Has anything changed?" Michelle asked.

"A friend of mine died, I found out that another friend is depressed again, and I...I've been having self-hatred and guilt a lot lately." Through therapy, Gilbert had discovered that nothing useful came of his money, or the time he spent at counseling if he didn't say what he thought straight up. He had fumbled with words, and it was still hard to say what was wrong with him.

"Hmm." She made some marks on her page. "Have you seen a psychologist?"

"Umm, no." _Stupid, forgetful._

"You should do that. Aggressive CBT. And also, don't dwell on hating yourself too much. It isn't healthy. And yes, I know you can't control it. But try to distract yourself."

* * *

Lizzy distracted herself, but she was not stable. Sorrow cut through anything that connected her mind to her emotions. She went out on the street during the weekend, her companion was her rediscovered camera. The first time she asked someone to pose for a picture, she had felt timid and awkward, but eventually she took such an evident residence on the sidewalk, that people would come up to her to ask for photographs, and she was more bold in asking. Her willing models would flash fake smiles, but even these were valuable; she could study them in comparison to those she had photographed laughing, and then approached for permission. Her favorite's were the ones that didn't smile. Some people pulled naturally intellectual faces, or those of extreme pain, boredom, thoughtfulness, and every other emotion that she could not feel.

Lizzy made a list. Her original intention had been a sort of a purgatorial list, like one a kindergartner might be obliged to write before Thanksgiving. But instead of "I am thankful for..." her list started with "Things I can't care about…".

In the first column space of her list was _Being Depressed_ , followed by _Dying_ , _Roderich_ , _Pain_ , _Living, Falling in Love, My Job, Human welfare, myself, Everything_

Then, starting a new header of "Things I care about…", she started with _Photography_ , but scratched it out. She distracted herself with photography, she hoped that one day she could appreciate these photos, but then she remembered that she wasn't allowed to hope anymore.

 _Gilbert_. That wasn't really true either. She forced herself to care about a lot of things, but it hurt to think that she couldn't love anyone. Not Gilbert, not Roderich. No one.

Neither Gilbert item deserved to be in her interests anymore. She added them to the first list.

So, crossing out the name, she wrote: _Nothing_.

Michelle had recommended writing about her feelings. Lizzy would have rather not written or even thought about her nonexistent emotions.

 _I want to feel something; anything,_ she wrote. That was it, a sentence a day. She was maxed out.

Lizzy wondered if this was what it felt like to be dead. _Being dead would be better, because then it would all be over_. She bowed her head, hoping that she wouldn't offend or trivialize the deceased.

* * *

"I'm going to call Lizzy, and tell her that you want to go on a date if you don't tell me." Ludwig threatened.

"Go ahead." Gilbert retorted defiantly.

That was how the message found itself on Lizzy's phone. Gilbert did not confess his freshest revelations to the psychologist.

"It was just a really long test that I took in a really small room. And none of the pencils were sharpened, and none of them had erasers. It was like they wanted me to go insane. Probably for job security."

Lizzy was more glad than confused for a reason to leave her house. She didn't care if Ludwig had arranged it, she knew that every moment alone, she was a danger to herself.

"You know Gilbert, this is really classy." she remarked over her paper cup of gas station coffee. She forced a smile, but was a little proud of her maintained humor, and thought about making a list about things she had and hadn't lost.

"Being unemployed doesn't pay very well. We're lucky Luddy gave me this much when he kicked me out to go pick you up. He thinks fresh air and talking to 'like-minded people' would be good for me. And for both of us, I guess."

"I didn't know you were unemployed."

"Yeah, well neither did I until recently. I wanted to become a mechanical engineer. Maybe one day, but I'm not in college this year." he sighed, "I don't even have enough money to buy hazelnut coffee for my hot date."

"Who's that?" Lizzy asked, sarcastically.

Gilbert chuckled. "You're not my date, unless you want to be. And you'd have to be desperate to want that." His self-opinion didn't slip out often, but here it had. Lizzy ignored it.

"I'm worried about Feli." she said, knowing that she should feel guilty about lying, and then about not actually being able to care about the boy.

"Oh, I think Feliks is going to try to find someone he knows to take care of Feli. If not, he'll have to go back into the adoption program. That'd be awful for him, but what can you do."

Lizzy saw her whole future in perspective for a second. She was young, she could have a future, she had grown up normally. Feli hadn't had a stable family for any extended period of time. He was suffering the death of Roderich in a much different way than she was. _If I'm depressed, what will he be like when he's an adult? Or maybe it won't even take that long. Poor kid_.

Her mind emotionally rode those words as some sort of feeling, but deep down in her heart, she once again felt nothing. _What have I turned into?_

Gilbert's mind took advantage of the silence to remind him of his failure as a human. _Thanks, you can shut up now. Leave me alone!_ He bordered knowing that what he thought wasn't true, and believing it.

"Lizzy, do you ever not really know what you think about, sometimes? Like, in your mind you like or dislike something, but you don't know if that's you?"

"Hmm, sometimes." She wondered what he could be thinking, and whether he did believe it.

The coffee was gone, even the dregs. Lizzy crushed hers with satisfaction, and pushed it through the slot provided in the trashcan. Gilbert followed suit.

 _This won't be the rest of my life_ , Lizzy promised herself, looking up at her sky, next to her Gilbert, knowing that she was only feeding depression more ammunition. Of course, now came the thoughts of _what if this is the rest of my life?_ But she didn't care.

* * *

Feliciano determined that it was easier to pretend something didn't happen than to admit that you had lost it. He saw grownups do it, and in a way it hurt more to admit that he had lost so many things than it did to actually lose them.

Feliks was pretending that the world was okay. Feliks promised to take care of him, but Feli secretly didn't believe him. He knew that Feliks was just trying to be kind and reassuring. It wasn't working, but he let the man keep trying, because he didn't want to lose him either.

Feli had grabbed all the piano books out of Roderich's house. He wanted to keep them, even if he had lost the piano.

Truthfully, Feli knew where he would go; back into the agency. However, he could pretend for hours at a time that he had a home, and that he would be alright. People at the agency had said that he was "emotionally aged beyond his years". This wasn't particularly true. Feli was a child, and not a particularly resilient one. But portions of his mind had strengthened in anticipation of more pain. They shut off pain from the child's brain. They protected him, but only for so long. Feliciano was a child, and also a time-bomb. He was not prepared to feel all the reality of death. But it teared, chasing after him, and it aimed to catch him.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please Review.**

 **It bears mentioning that I worry a lot about whether or not Feliciano's thoughts are too mature for someone his age. (Yes, he has been through a lot, and is thus mature. But y'know, not like adult-level-maturity). Also, I don't know exactly how old he is. So please tell me if it seems unrealistic.**


	14. Reflection

_Today, this morning, I forced myself to go outside. But I just sat there on my own porch, and then decided to sit there and do nothing but watch people who stopped to stare at me. That's actually what I'm doing right now, but I'm writing about it._

 _They don't know how I feel, so it doesn't matter. Maybe I should photograph these people. Or would that be weird, since I don't have enough motivation to even ask them if I can? Let alone enough energy to stand up and get my camera. And it couldn't possibly be as weird as telling this all to a piece of paper_.

Lizzy put down the journal, feeling slightly dangerous. She had written a paragraph, something so distant that she couldn't think of having done it since High School. Or was it the job interview.

Her watch pointed out that she had to go to work. It was still early in the morning, and Lizzy could hardly keep her eyes open as she swept black eyeliner across her eyelids.

Life had become a chore. Lizzy had to get out of bed, then spend the rest of the day pretending to be human; smiling at people, having small, insignificant conversations. It ripped her mind apart, and the world seemed to be cheering on her death.

The newspaper print could very quickly sink into one's fingers, and Lizzy had learned this the very first day of her job, toting around papers for a co-worker. It stained, so she was very careful not to touch her face, or clean, white paper during the work day, unless she washed them.

On the wall of Lizzy's room, there were many marks like the claws of some wild beast. That beast was Lizzy. She had carved them there instead of on her own arm. It was healthier, she estimated.

Each cut represented a day, and maybe each one was a scratch closer to the day she could paint over the wall-scars. She would repaint the wall blue, but that was too much speculation. After all, the marks could continue to spread across her room, the battles of each day persisting without end. Forever and ever amen.

Lizzy tended to avoid thinking about her future, or eternity. It made her want to kill herself. She had no plans for a new job. Life could logically go on, and on without stop just the way it was, until she died. Death had become more of a comforting notion, rather than a scary destiny.

 _Death is peace. Life is pain._ Every thought she had was tinted. Everything she saw was through the glass of depression. It shaped her view of the world. This was a dangerous place; the world and depression both seemed to want her dead.

* * *

Gilbert's room reflected something about him; his faith in himself was dying. Out on his bed was a collection of diaries. They had recent dates on them, things from that very year, in the spring. He hated to read through them, knowing that he would only find further proof of his dangerous arrogance.

 _Was I more stupid then, or now. I hate this. I hate myself_.

Not only was there evidence of it, but also memories of Roderich, which hurt. Again, and again he saw the word "I". It had all revolved around him, hadn't it? _I was blind then, and I am blind now. Am I really even depressed, or making a big deal out of nothing?_

Doubt once planted sprung forth, and ugly flower from a hideous seed, but rooted none the less. It joined other creeping things that Gilbert potted in the depths of his brain. _Guilt, fear, hate._

Ludwig shared residence with someone who suffered from a mental health problem, but he was also his flesh and blood. Gilbert didn't act like the older brother, and now he was childishly refusing to go to his counseling.

"Brother, you need to go. You promised that you would go every week."

"Luddy, it's very expensive. I'm trying to do you a favor." Gilbert explained, an afterthought of wisdom having provided another argument to his pile of very weak excuses.

* * *

The wind in the city really did a good job of blow drying everything. Some of these things had to be picked up, and sorted back into the proper places; for example, Lizzy's green recycling bin had been moved into the street, where it was causing a considerable traffic delay, each car slowing as they approached it, and rounding past the obstruction. The line of cars seemed irritated. Lizzy wondered why one of them hadn't already gotten out of their vehicle to move it themselves.

She cautiously trekked into the road, counting on human civility to halt and not run her over out of spite. As she hauled the bin out of the street, he could feel all the eyes in the road watching her from their cars. Then, as soon as she did not occupy the center of the street, engines quickened, and went past her.

The traffic on Lizzy's way to counseling wasn't bad. Still, through the crevice between the glass of her window and the metal it was reaching for, wind whistled. It reminded her of screams more than whistling. They shrilly tormented her, until she closed the gap that had existed; about a centimeter, and once it was closed there was no more noise from outside, at least none natural. The man-made sound of trucks, tires, the gritting of asphalt and rubber, were there, but they were always there. Lizzy couldn't even hear them without trying to. In this silence, she heard herself. She was far away, somewhere in a barren woods, and of course the terrible woman was there.

Depression was crying.

 _Why?_

 _Because you can't,_ she explained, all pain leaving her face at the opportunity to inflict the intended dagger.

 _Maybe I don't cry because I'm stronger than you._

 _Maybe you're not. We'll see_ , Depression said quietly, suggestive of a premonition.

 _I might not win, but I will not lose, and I will not let you beat me,_ Lizzy thought.

 _I've already won. I'm here, aren't I?_

In the waiting room, Lizzy reread her friend's credentials. She knew that this time wouldn't be any different from the last one; she would have to wait for an approval for the medication, after getting the results of the psychological test.

Michelle came out. There was no patient inside the room she had left. "Hey Lizzy, you can go in." she waved.

Lizzy waited. Michelle came back with a tall canister of something.

"I guess we'll just start. First, I should tell you something, because you know that you won't be on medication for a while, and there's nothing I can do about that. My job, right now, is to keep you here until you're safe. But I need to know that I'm not the only person trying to do that. Does anyone else know that you are depressed?"

"Yes. Gilbert."

"Does he know that you're suicidal?"

"No. Not yet..."

Michelle looked down at her constant companion; a clipboard. "You should tell him. Don't worry about it being a burden. You two have something in common, and he is more likely to understand what you are feeling, and to empathize and talk you down than anyone outside."

"Okay. I'll try to casually bring that up. 'Hey, for buying me lunch. I want to kill myself sometimes.' But really, I will mention it to him." she laughed. Lizzy was lying.

"Thank you," Michelle caught her eye, and forced an extra dose of earnesty into them. She cared. "So, I wanted to tell you a story that may or may not be helpful, but I've had this in my mind for a while. We are all created for a reason, and gifted in something. You take beautiful pictures. Gilbert can play the flute. My niche wasn't even an obvious talent that branched off of an activity I participated in."

Lizzy nodded.

Michelle continued, "I got out of High School, and I had no idea what I was going to do. But then one day, I looked really closely at everything. How I lived my life, and what I did. I wasn't really good at doing anything, but I could listen. Sometimes people would just tell me things. I didn't even know them, or anything about their lives, but they would confess things to me. They trusted me, and I listened. A mother admits that she wishes she had never married her husband, because he never listens to her, and doesn't want any more kids. An acquaintance tells me about a fight she's having with her best friend over false rumors and gossip. I didn't know why people came to me so openly, but at that point I knew that I either had to become a spy, or a counselor."

"Wow." Lizzy said.

"Yeah, so I don't want you to give up. You have a beautiful life. I know that it's really hard to hold on to something that you associate with pain, but life can get better. I want you to go home and write some more about how you feel. And yes, I know that you feel embarrassed about it. You don't have to show anyone. Try making a list of words that you could use to describe how you feel. We can at least try to figure depression out while we wait for the medication."

Lizzy left, after payment. The air got colder as she descended the stairs, and breathed down her next as she opened the door. The sun promised warm weather, and the breeze counteracted it strongly. _And it's summer too._ She got into her car. The town shone brighter in the summer, it seemed. Of course, the color of the sky often dictated the general mood of the town. At best, it could be non-repulsive, and at worst it seemed to be a cramped, depressing prison. Lizzy had never seen the good in it, anyhow.

In the winter, you couldn't see the streets, or half of the ground, and building sides. It was like an immense spot of white out over an enormous mistake. _Was this farmland once? Did people till the Earth here? And did they fight to preserve what they called home when it came time to tear apart the land and plant cement foundations for houses instead? It would be a sight prettier, if it were farmland._

Lizzy spent the rest of her drive imagining that every ugly house was a tree, or a field of corn, or that she could see a mountain protecting the fertile ground within her town. It only lasted a minute, but the thought of something other than herself was refreshing.

Once within her own house, Lizzy had the striking thought that it was Saturday. It always seemed to be the worst day of the week, because she had nothing to do, and nothing to distract her. She remembered what Michelle had said, and grabbed the back of a grocery list, with a pen.

She started the word list with a few vague ideas in her mind, but something passionate struck her along the way, as if she could destroy her mental illness by revealing its identity.

 _Joyless_

 _Empty_

 _Scared_

 _Lonely_

 _Unfeeling_

 _Unhappy_

 _Numb_

 _Hopeless_

 _Hollow_

Lizzy rose, and purposefully found a mirror in the corner of her dark room. Looking into it was almost like a lake. Behind her was the darkness of her room, and the little sunshine that her windows provided. She looked into her own eyes, and past them.

 _Die. Oh, I hope you die, Depression. I bet that everyone in the world hates you. You're ugly. I hate you, and you will never make me hate myself, only what you have made me become. And I will not stop breathing until I defeat you. And maybe I'll even get t-shirts made for the occasion. 'Lizzy Beat Depression's Face In'. That's catchy, isn't it? You're going to tell me that I'm going insane, talking to myself, and not a person. I know that you're not a person, but somehow making up a reality in my head is more sane than what is going on in my head._

Lizzy didn't feel pretty. Her jaw was too strong, her eyes too fierce, her hair was too thick and it never settled around her face. It just sat against her head unhelpfully, about three inches framing her face like a broad, brown picture frame. She didn't feel pretty, but she felt strong for a second.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please review!**

 **There is whole lot of Lizzy in this chapter. (And a lot of it was kind of every-day-life stuff, or her random thoughts. Hopefully it was still interesting)**

 **Guest Reviews**

 **Guest: Thank you! (Haha, honestly, I'm very forgetful, and I wrote this in November, so I'd like to know what happens to Feli too. I can't remember O_O).**

 **McKenna: Thank you! I'm so glad you like it! Your lovely review made me smile :)**


	15. Deprecated, Loathed, & Loved

Gilbert was so sick of his burden, and it had only been a month. He wanted to tear himself apart, partially to apologize to everything, and also because death sounded like it would be better. But Gilbert could be practical. He forced himself to sit downstairs with his brother. Ludwig was smart enough to understand Gilbert's actions, but private enough to omit comments about it.

"How are you?" he asked as Gilbert sat beside him on the couch. His brother looked at him so intensely that he felt the need to put down his book.

"I'm okay." Gilbert said. It wasn't true, and Ludwig knew it. He could see Gilbert's eyes.

"That's good. Do you mind if I put on Beethoven?"

"Tch, of course not. I love Beethoven."

Ludwig had really just wanted an excuse to get up, and process his own thoughts at a safe distance; one where he could observe Gilbert as necessary, and also have personal space.

Over the phone, Michelle Bonnefoy had given him details that Gilbert had not revealed to his brother. _I hope that it was a legal information exchange_. Gilbert hated himself. This struck Ludwig as ridiculous, perhaps even more so than it had Gilbert. He had grown up with his brother's lovable confidence being the biggest, strongest thing in the whole world. And now the same man who had laughed at years of childhood pain, and been able to survive tragedies because of his willpower and egotism had fallen. It was shocking. Ludwig felt his own sense of loss at this. He himself wished he had half the spirit of his older brother, and usually opted to make up for it by being controlling in his firm orders.

"You should read that book." Ludwig said. Gilbert picked it up, and paged through the first few pages.

"It's a self-help book. Are you trying to say that I need self-help?" he teased.

"I got it for myself. You might find it interesting. It has some good suggestions."

 _Nothing can help me, it isn't your fault,_ Gilbert thought

Ludwig took out a CD, and put it into the device. Then, after he had turned the volume knobs, a deep classical peace filled the room. It was the recorded silence on the tape, only lasting a second, respectfully waiting for Beethoven's music.

The movement began with strings. It could have been a funeral march, led right across the road of instruments that were in the air. The music had a cold, growing feeling. It could be so quiet, and then the next moment, it would swallow you whole; consuming.

"Beethoven was a solitary man, just like you." Gilbert said, during a short intermission, as the strings took a breath.

Ludwig's response was caught on the music. "I am not a solitary man, or a genius like Beethoven."

"No, I don't think Beethoven was in the military. But his music sounds like it could be having a war."

"Yeah. Speaking of being deployed, maybe sometime this year. I didn't want to tell you." Ludwig said.

"Ha, I know you can take care of yourself, but are you worried about leaving me all alone in your house, now that I've moved in?" Gilbert's mind shattered at the whispered suggestion. It started as a whisper, at least. A simple, _what if he doesn't come home_. Then he could see it happening, and there would be a nice, polite, consoling paper letter ( _We regret to inform you...)_ , and he could see his brother and blood all around on the war stricken ground, somewhere in him a bullet. Maybe it would be in his head, that thought so clearly, or his heart that felt often, but expressed rarely.

 _Don't be stupid_.

Ludwig noticed the expression on Gilbert's face. "I will be okay. I will come home. And you had better not break my microwave."

* * *

Lizzy was so tired, and she had no motivation to get out of her bed. The alarm blinked a number at her, the number that meant she had to get up to go to work, but she didn't want to.

 _Get up_.

She forced herself to, and ate breakfast. Abruptly, she could feel her heart; it beat regularly, but she could feel it as if it were suddenly stronger, and about to burst from the front of her chest. Lizzy collapsed, clutching her rib cage as if it were a broken gate keeping her insides from spilling out everywhere. On her knees, the kitchen looked bigger. She couldn't breath.

 _It's like someone filled my lungs with cotton. I can't breath._

As this thought reached her mind, she gasped for air, and could feel it entering her lungs. It was there. It was keeping her alive. But no matter how much she breathed, she felt out of breath. Nothing could quench the need to breath.

Lizzy writhed to get onto her feet. She stumbled towards the counter, and reached into her cupboard for a cup. When she was able to fill it with water at the sink without any broken glass, she sat down and drank it, deeply. This soothed her emptiness a little. The clock showed a number that meant she should have been dressed, and ready to leave the house.

There was little energy left in Lizzy, and she used the rest of it up sprinting up her stairs, and getting properly attired. She walked, because driving would have been dangerous. It would take longer, and only added to the possibility of being late.

Her head was still dazed. _Please, don't let this happen again_. She was thinking not only of the future, but also of the past. Her previous battle had lasted for about two months. She had experienced similar things, most notably fatigue. But this times it had returned stronger, and with more devastating weapons. Everything from before was amplified.

* * *

Gilbert drove to see his counselor again. Ludwig was forcing him to.

It was the same every time. He got there, and waited. Someone always seemed to be in before him. After settling payments, Michelle would tell him to go in, as she got herself coffee from a backroom. This time, he looked closely at the photographs on the walls. They were displayed, so he supposed that they were meant to be looked at. But the room felt like a part of Michelle's house that he had been invited into, and looking at them while she was there felt like an invasion of privacy.

There one man in most of them. He was tall, and had chin-length blonde hair. Michelle looked nothing like him, but posed in the pictures as if he was her father.

Michelle from real life reentered the room, startling Gilbert a little. She settled in her chair across from him.

"So, how have you been doing?" she began. It was a customary beginning.

"Pretty much the same."

Michelle glanced at her paper, presumably checking to see her own notes from the last session.

"Oh, so you're feeling guilt and self-hate. It isn't easy to forgive yourself. And it's hard when depression has you convinced that you are a bad person. It feels terrible. No one wants to feel terrible about themselves. But-"

"Look, it's not how terrible I feel about myself. I _am_ terrible."

Michelle pursed her lips, in a disagreement. She seemed to think for a while, and when she looked back at him, embedded in her expression was an apology. Something like, "This is going to be hard to understand for you." Gilbert swallowed, though his mouth was dry.

"Your brain is like a child in some ways. If you constantly beat yourself up, your brain will program itself for self-hatred. It can also create pathways, or ways of thinking, and it could create one for depression, which would mean that even if you got better from this particular term with depression, it could happen again."

 _Like Lizzy. No, that was my fault. I must have triggered it_.

"But," Michelle continued, "you can stop yourself from thinking detrimental things to yourself. If you're tempted to blame something on yourself, try thinking about it as a mistake, and not dwelling on it too much. Remind yourself that you are human, and make mistakes just like every other human on this planet. Instead of thinking 'I can't do anything right', think 'I make mistakes, but I am still a good person.' Even if you can't control how you feel about yourself, you can make a separation between what depression is causing you to think, and what you actually think about yourself. Did any of that make sense?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Lizzy needed to talk to someone. It was a gnawing need. She thought of Gilbert first, and then Michelle or Katya. But Katya didn't know anything about it, so she would just be concerned, and confused. Michelle was a counselor, but this also meant that her approach was methodical, even when she was just listening. Lizzy needed someone who knew, but also had no idea how to fix it.

 _Someone just as lost as me_.

She called the number just as she had the first time. Gilbert answered it, his rough voice saying: "Hello, this is Gilbert Beilschmidt. Apparently, I'm not available right now, or I'm ignoring you. So, if it's important, please leave a message."

She left a message. "Hi, this is Lizzy. I wanted to talk to you. It isn't important. If you want to call me when you're available, please do."

A second later, her own phone was ringing. She glanced at the caller ID, and answered it.. "Screening my call?" she said.

"Haha, sorry. I just didn't want any telemarketers." Gilbert mumbled.

"So you don't know my phone number?"

"Well not by heart." he admitted, "But I have it in my contacts."

"I'm just teasing you."

"I thought so. Anyway, what did you want to talk about?"

Lizzy tried to figure this out herself. "I felt really sick this morning. It felt like I was suffocating."

"Have you talked to a doctor yet? They might be more likely to get you on medication sooner if they know that it physically sickens you."

"Yeah, I will. How about you? Have they discussed medication?" Lizzy said.

"Nope. Just a lot about CBT, and thinking positively."

"I'm going to be a major hypocrite and say that you should think positively. Like I said, I don't do this myself."

Gilbert chuckled lightly. "I know that what they're saying is good and everything. I'm just worried about losing before I feel better."

"CBT will only work if you try it. Because it mostly has to do with what you think, and how you control that, it might be weird. But you need to enforce it. And I sound like I know what I'm talking about even though I don't."

"You know how I feel, Lizzy. You know how hopeless this is."

"If you don't have hope, you need to get it." Lizzy said fiercely. "Grab it, and hold on to it. It will be a lantern. It doesn't matter if you can't feel it in your soul. If you hold it in your mind, and promise not to let go of it through any storm, you can survive and retake what you have lost. Otherwise, the light goes out, and it will be too dark to see how close to death you are."

The words were good for someone else, but she couldn't see them applying to herself. He still had some feeling, and even that could protect a small bit of mental hope. But in her case, hope wasn't allowed. Nothing in her mind had any control over what she felt, or thought.

 _If I had a broken heart, maybe you could fix it. But mine isn't broken, it's gone. It's dead._

Everything she loved, and anything that brought her joy, would be destroyed, or made to be void of the happiness associated with it.

"I'll try, but you know that hope is something you have to feel."

"Is it?" Lizzy asked. She didn't know what hope was, or how it felt, anymore.

"Maybe. I don't really know. Hey, don't you have work today?"

"I got there, and then went home because I had a fever. Well, sort of."

"I kind of don't want to know what you mean by 'sort of'," he said.

"I was displaying the symptoms of a fever, whether or not my temperature was that high. I wouldn't have been able to work, anyway."

Gilbert was in his room (Luddy's guest-room-that-was-not-the-basement). He had finally gotten rid of some junk, and was making progress in cleaning. For once.

It wasn't too hard to throw away diaries with one hand. He had to put the phone on speaker as he made his bed, though. It wrinkled again when he sat on it, but that was a battle he could never win.

It was like the first time they had met, and once again neither of them knew what to say. Gilbert knew that no matter what he said, it would be stupid. _She can't know how much I hate myself. Then again, I'm so terrible, she probably already knows it. And it wouldn't be her fault for it. Some people just deserve hatred._

Gilbert figured he was one of those people; one of those that inflicted pain on others. While he generally avoided this, he could cite having pushed Lizzy back into depression. The rest was really intuition; he hated himself, and couldn't tell you why. It just felt right, or rather wrong. He was terrible. _Who even knows why? Who even cares?_

Lizzy was rubbing her temples with one hand. _I should tell him about being suicidal._

She didn't.

Their secrets intersected.

Lizzy wondered what she needed, before everything came to her in terrible revelation. She was spouting words at poor Gilbert before any filter could be put up.

"How can I ever go back to working like a normal person when my thoughts are distracted strands of 'Please STOP!'. People would think I'm insane. Looking at my own eyes, I think it sometimes too. I feel like I'm going crazy, and maybe I am."

She breathed. Gilbert didn't.

Lizzy continued on her second wind. "But you must still have hope. The answer, Gilbert, the reason I can't get better, is heartbreakingly simple. I won't. I was made this way, and nothing can change it. You know, I'm almost at peace with that. Sometimes I think I could live like this, but I can't. I can't- it isn't living. Every second of the day I am dying. And if I were normal, I would be crying right now. But I'm not. I haven't cleared away any of the emptiness. This isn't like last time. I'm not a little girl locked in a dark, scary house, feeling sad always. I'm a strong woman, who feels nothing, sees other people's happy faces, but has had her soul drained out. I can't escape, and this time I don't even care enough to try. In my mind, I logically know that I have to see a doctor, I have to get on medication, I have so many things to do. But all I want to do is sleep." Once Lizzy had started, the words poured out, and she couldn't stop them. Her mind was speaking, and it had a lot to say. Every word that she said was so sad, but intoned in a drone. Yet another proof that sadness couldn't hurt her.

"I'm sorry." Gilbert rasped, sounding slightly betrayed, and completely pitying, "I'm crying."

Lizzy didn't know if the two sentences were meant to be attached, or individual. "No, no. I'm sorry. I just have a lot of worries on my mind. And I can't always control what I say. Especially when I can't do any emotional bloodletting." she said.

"Emotional bloodletting?" His voice was still waterlogged, and rough around the corners.

"Crying. I can't. So it all just builds up, and it has nowhere to go. I talk to myself a lot, so that's usually how I get rid of it."

"Oh."

"Thank you for listening to me. I miss you."

"I have to go. I miss you too. Maybe we can get some coffee again, somewhere nicer than the gas station. I don't know how I'd arrange that, but you never know."

"Bye, I'll see you." Lizzy said.

"Bye." Gilbert whispered. He had left because any word that came out of his mouth would be heavy with guilt and hate. It was already breaking in his mind, and escaping through ragged breaths. The sun came through his window, but it was the city sun, which was somehow plastic looking, as if it was a light fixture. He held onto that thought, because he needed a thought that wasn't about himself.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please review.**

 **Ah, editing the dialogue was a pain. I had to add dialogue tags, and chop up some really long passages *coughLIZZYcough*, that are still pretty long, but at least it shouldn't be as daunting as the solid two-inches-with-no-break of text I had for her originally.**

 **Guest Review**

 **Guest: Thank you! I want Lizzy to be happy too, despite the fact that I'm an evil person who wrote about her being depressed in the first place. She is a very strong character.**


	16. Day Care

"You're really sure?" Feliks asked. The women from the adoption agency was really sure.

 _Foster Care,_ Feliks thought sullenly, _it's like they don't trust me to raise a kid right_. _Hmph, he wouldn't be a total delinquent._ But Feliks wasn't absolutely willing to commit to the whole "become a parent of a kid" yet thing. Feliciano would have to go to school, and then there were other expenses. He felt like maybe he was being selfish, but he wasn't ready. That was it. He wouldn't let his emotions get in the way of his better judgement, and he had to admit that he wasn't prepared to take care of a child full time. Even Roderich had trouble . And there Roderich was again, haunting his memories. It was recent enough to take Feliks by surprise every time he thought about it and realized again that Roderich wasn't there anymore, and never would be.

 _Why does death have to be so unpredictable and permanent? Jerk_.

But an added concern was Feli's emotional and mental health. His brain had rejected the lies that he had been feeding himself, but now they were gone. It was like delivering the news again, and Feliks had known something was wrong when the boy looked up at him from playing one day. It spoke of hurt, a sudden gash of terrible information. Feliks wanted so badly to forget he had ever seen that face.

 _Feli used to be so happy_ , he thought.

* * *

 _"Once upon a time there was a knight-" Gilbert was cut off by a shriek of indignant protest._

 _"Read it the right way, Gil!" Luddy whined._

 _"Okay, okay." Gilbert laughed, as his brother pulled at his arm. "Once upon a time, there was an awesome knight," he amended, checking to see if Luddy's eyes were appropriately enraptured. "And he awesomely went across the countryside, fighting for his king."_

 _There was a noise from downstairs. Gilbert sighed. "Hey, maybe we can finish this story some other time."_

 _"No. You said you would read to me!" Luddy demanded._

 _"Look, I will. I just need to go do something now."_

 _"Come back."_

 _"I will."_

 _The noise was their father. He had fallen over onto the floor, knocking over a chair in the process._ Ugh, he's drunk _, Gilbert thought with disgust. His father was still awake, but sprawled on the floor, like a prostrate, unmoving worm._

 _Gilbert looked away, and went back upstairs. Gerhard could sleep on the floor. It was his own fault for not being able to get back up into a sitting position._

 _Ludwig was already asleep._

* * *

The psychologists office was out of the way, about twenty minutes. This was farther than Lizzy was accustomed to on a regular basis, most of her needs were supplied within a mile radius of her own house, and she did not travel so far to be asked condescending questions.

The psychologist seemed to realize the damage of his words. "Did anything traumatic happen to you as a child, Miss Héderváry? Family deaths, anything?"

"Not really. My parents are both still alive, I was an only child, I had good friends. I mean, when I was in grade school, people used to think I was a boy, because of my short hair. They would ask me if I was a girl or a boy. I think some of them already knew. But it didn't matter to me because I was stronger than all of them. But it bothered me sometimes. None of the girls wanted to be around me, and I have a feeling that they spent a lot of time gossiping about me behind my back. The boys were too intimidated by the fact that I actually was a girl to hang out with me. So when people like you ask me what my childhood was like, I don't really know what to say. Maybe it was bullying, but I don't know. It never made me upset. It never haunts me, and I never worry about my past having any influence on my current life."

The psychologist nodded, but he didn't seem convinced. He could look at the paper and see "Clinically Depressed." but he was of the obstinate mindset that it couldn't have come from nowhere.

* * *

Feliks drove across a block on dirty houses to drop Feli off at Toris's apartment. It was an ugly color, and probably cost too much. Feliks grabbed Feli's hand as they entered it. Toris opened his door. "Come in." Something in his voice was apprehensive.

"Are you okay?" Feliks asked, glancing down to Feli. The boy was looking into the apartment, with a suspicion. Like he didn't know whether he was being dropped off or sacrificed.

"I'm fine. It's just that my neighbor is being really loud, and I'm a little worried about him bothering Feli. But I'm probably overthinking things, aren't I?" Toris said, smiling nervously, like he was covering up whatever he was feeling and worrying about with some facade of joy.

Feliks hated that look _so_ much.

"No, you should go over and tell him to keep it down. Gosh, you do have a right to personal sanity, or whatever. If it bothers you, than tell him."

"But I can't! What if he gets violent?" Toris whispered.

"Fine, I'll do it." Feliks huffed.

"No! You'll get killed."

"Don't be dramatic, Toris. Feli stay here. It's on the left, right?"

Toris hesitated, but nodded. Feli stepped into the apartment.

Everything was quiet as Feliks rapped intrusively on the door. There was a noise coming from inside, but he couldn't tell what it was.

A large man opened the door, and he knew why Toris had been nervous about confronting the neighbor about it in the first place. He almost considered backing down with some excuse like 'Hey, I guess I got the wrong door number, oops.', but Toris suffered in silence (and in this case, in loudness) too much for this to be a surrender moment.

"Umm, could you maybe be a little quieter? Sorry, I have a little kid over in the other room."

"Why should I do that, short man?" The man sneered.

"Please. I don't want to fight, I just think that maybe whatever you're doing could be done with a little less noise." Feliks had forced calm into his words and voice, but inside he burned. _How DARE he call me short!_

"Or it might not. Go back, you are not my neighbor. And my neighbor is not complaining about the noise."

"He got a second opinion. Just because he didn't say anything to you, doesn't mean that he isn't sick of all the noise you're making."

The man growled, and closed the door.

Back outside Toris's door, Feliks ranted for a minute and a half, before realizing that he had to be at his job.

"People like that make me sick. You should tell the apartment owner."

"Yeah, that would also be him. Hopefully I won't be evicted."

"You could have said so." Feliks pouted. "Anyway, I have to go. Bye! I'll pick up Feli at eight."

"Okay. Bye!"

Feli was already in the living room.

"I'm going to make lunch. What would you like?" Toris called from the kitchen.

"Nothing." Feli said.

"You should really eat, Feli."

"I'm not hungry."

"Could you maybe try to eat a little?"

"No."

"Okay. If you get hungry, please tell me right away."

"I will."

Feli let his head rest on the carpet. He was so tired from having cried in the night, and his eyes hurt.

* * *

"Well, I think everything will be settled very soon. You'll have your prescription soon." Michelle said, closing her notebook, reserved for official notes, opposed to her more personal notes on clients' personalities.

"Thank you." Lizzy said. "How has Gil been doing?"

"I can't tell you, but you could ask him."

"Why do I feel like you actually have no problem with breaking the law to tell me, but just want me to talk to him?"

"Because maybe you're right." Michelle winked.

"We came over together. He's out in the waiting room."

"Am I missing something? Are you two together?" Michelle asked.

"No. I thought you were a counselor, Chelles. Don't you get it? I can't be in love. It isn't possible. I don't know what our relationship would be if neither of us were depressed, but this is how it is."

"Okay, I'm sorry." She pursed her lips quietly for a moment. "Do you have the list I 'assigned' you?"

"Yeah. Here it is." Lizzy pulled it out of her purse. At the top of the paper it said: " _ **all the things that make me depressed right now**_."

"Do you want me to look at it?"

"It's fine." Lizzy didn't care.

 _ **1\. Not caring about anything**_

 _ **2\. Nothing is enjoyable**_

 _ **3\. Insomnia**_

 _ **4\. A friend's death**_

Michelle looked up. "Do you notice that some of these problems are not only things that make you depressed, but things that exist because you are depressed. That points more towards clinical, like last time."

"Oh. The psychologist didn't seem to believe that it could be baseless."

"Yeah, well it makes his job easier and longer, or better paying if you have a problem that he can solve, stemming from something you could change in your thinking, behavior or lifestyle. Go figure."

"So you think that it's clinical, and that I can get my meds faster if I mention that."

"Well yeah. you might even bypass going through CBT altogether. That didn't really help last time, did it?"

"No."

"There's a difference between depression caused by thoughts, and thoughts caused by depression. You seem to be suffering from the latter."

"I think I sort of understand it. Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'm going to have to take Gilbert now."

"Sounds good."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please review.**

 **I'm sorry Ivan :(**

 **I don't even know why I put him in this as a minor antagonist. Blame it on the NaNoWriMo. It makes you do crazy things for a few extra words.** **For the record, I also like Germania, but he ends up coming off as a jerk too. Sorry guys.**

 **(This chapter was speed-edited this morning,** **because there wasn't much time for me to edit during the week. So please tell me if you see any mistakes!)**


	17. Crazy

Gilbert couldn't look his brother in the eyes when he got back from the appointment.

"Hello, Gilbert." Ludwig said.

"Hey. You know, I'll be blunt. I just maxed out the five free appointments that we got through insurance. So now it's on us. If you don't want to pay it, I understand."

Gilbert thought it was strange that Ludwig had no financial hesitation. "Of course we'll pay for it. You need help, it isn't even a question. Please don't be concerned about it."

 _You don't need it. You're just making it all up. This is your life, and no counselor can change that._

Gilbert tried the thought separation thingy, but it didn't work. He hated himself, and it didn't seem to be because of anything. _Maybe I'm not depressed_ , he doubted.

And the more he doubted, the blurrier the glass of depression was, completely obscuring his perception, and now he was starting to believe that it was all just his own vision.

"Ludwig, please don't feel obligated to do anything for me."

"I don't. You know me, you know how I am. I am a very organized person. I like schedules, and budgets, and planned for expenses. But you know that because you are my brother, I care about you. And taking care of you is a priority."

"Yeah, but don't you remember? I'm the older brother, so I'm supposed to protect and take care of you."

"We're brothers, and in no particular order we are supposed to take care of each other." Ludwig said seriously.

Everyone always admired Gilbert for his self-confidence. Now he had a reputation to maintain. Even to his older brother, he knew that it was obvious his demeanor had changed. But if so, Luddy hadn't said anything about it.

Gilbert knew he was going to break down crying, so he went upstairs, where at least he could be alone, and spare his brother the pain of watching.

 _I know I'm a failure, but I hope that from his perspective, I'm not a failure as a family. I've tried to be strong to make up for Dad. I should have told you how much it hurt to pretend that I didn't care about him killing himself with alcohol. If I told my counselor that there really was something wrong with my childhood, would that change anything?_

Gilbert hadn't written a letter to anyone in a long time. Technology had made that custom obsolete. This one was personal; he was taking Michelle's advice, and writing about his feelings. He didn't even have enough pride to sneer in disgust at the notion in principle.

 _Dear Gilbert,_

 _Why are you still here? And while we're on it, why did Roderich kill himself, and not you. He could have lived, and it would have meant something. But you will never amount to anything._

 _I'm still here. I know that I deserve to suffer, but why is Lizzy depressed? I don't understand why you make life so difficult for everyone. Luddy has to put up with you, and Lizzy would be better of if she hadn't met you to begin with. I'm crying. You're crying. We're weak, and I'm writing in the third person like I'm crazy. And maybe I am._

 _-Yourself._

Gilbert shredded the letter; he wouldn't send it. The sensation almost resembled relief. He was destroying himself, his name, his writing. It sent a shiver down his spine.

As his will to live extinguished, a will to die lurked.

 _I will not let anyone suffer because of me._

* * *

Lizzy was plagued by nightmares again. _This time, she was lying down on a table. There was depression, again. This time her horrible face was obscured by a hospital mask. Lizzy was_ _relieved_ _, for a second, before she realized that she was on an operating table._

 _Panic didn't even have enough time to reach her heart, before the knife was already there, this time making precise and careful wounds all around it. They grew deeper each time she went round. Then, depression_ _moved_ _her gloved hands into Lizzy's chest, and began tearing her heart out._

 _Lizzy stopped observing, and screamed, but she couldn't move. Depression's eyes revealed the smile beneath the mask._

She woke up, and drank a glass of water, before going back to sleep. These dreams were forgettable, and empty.

* * *

Everyday, Gilbert knew he was different from everyone else in the room, and they didn't know it. They all suddenly seemed more hostile, more demanding, more determined to break his mind. _Everything they say hurts and stings, and they don't know_.

"Come on." He even hears the constant surrounding irritation when he shuts his ears. They resonate in his mind, but he can't even feel angry. Every word of admonishment affirms his self-hate. Tears are constantly ready to flood from just beneath the surface.

Gilbert hates sarcasm too, because he can't tell the difference between sincerity and loathing. He can only assume that any positive feedback is meant ironically.

And when the whole world seemed to hate him intently, the question remained: Why don't Lizzy and Luddy? Do they? _Why don't you hate me?_

* * *

Lizzy left an enormous collection of tissue boxes on the Beilschmidt's doorstep. She thought that Ludwig might have seen her. Something had stirred from behind their curtains. _Gilbert will need them more than me,_ she thought.

She left quietly, getting back into her car, parked a little further down the street so as to avoid provoking suspicion. She still felt like her discreet manner made the plastic bags seem more like bombs than a gift.

A man going by on his lawn mower paused to look at her. She must have looked strange. She had stopped knowing what her face did when she wasn't paying attention to it.

Once again, as she drove, a feeling before lightheadedness and between dizziness, filled her skull. It made it difficult to concentrate on the road. She would have described it as an absence of something physical, overflowing her mind with static. For seconds at a time, she seemed to fall out of her body, knowing nothing of what happened in those moments. When she opened her eyes, she was stopped at a red light.

Lizzy blinked, and breathed deeply. _I don't know what this is. I hope I'm not going crazy._

She got home, and wondered if there was a medicine for whatever she was experiencing. _Nope._

"Michelle," she began her phone call. "It's Lizzy. I have a question."

Michelle must have been on speaker phone, because Lizzy could hear her typing in the background. "Sure. What's up?"

"I feel really weird. I mean, my head isn't right. I keep feeling like I'll faint, but it isn't really that feeling. I guess I'm really tired."

"Oh dear, I hope you feel better. Have you had any difficulty sleeping?"

"Yeah, some. I have trouble sleeping, and staying asleep."

"Then you might just be exhausted. Can you take a nap?"

"Probably not. I have errands to run. Shouldn't there be a medicine for this, or something."

Michelle laughed, and her fingers stopped clicking. "Not everything has an instantaneous cure, Lizzy. But in this case, it's called caffeine. Just be sure to drink water, or you'll be shaky and dehydrated on top of exhausted, which will just make it feel worse."

"Okay, I'll go make some coffee. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Bye!"

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please review.**

 **A little bit of a short, uneventful chapter, but hopefully still interesting. There isn't always a lot of action, and sometimes it just seems to me like the scenes are a bit random/choppy. My hope for this story was not merely to tell a story, but also to demonstrate what depression is in everyday life. But I always worry that this makes it mundane. My worst fear is that my story is boring.**


	18. Pieces of my Peaceful Pietà

_The First Day of High School gripped the last days of summer. The building would be a sweltering cement block, with students inside all regretting the layers they had put on in the heat._

 _Lizzy was among them, and knew no one. People had already broken off, as if they had known each other. But she was alone._

 _It wasn't too bad though, being lonely. She wasn't the only one._

 _A boy in the back of class with glasses, and a very serious face didn't talk to anyone either._

 _Lizzy tried to open her locker again. Her vigorous fingers past the desired number again. Lizzy swore under her breath at the locker, telling it that it was an ugly color too, and if it wanted to play hard to open, she would kick it in. A group of girls that had clustered in the center of the hallway whispered and giggled, as Lizzy ignored them and continued her private conversation with the uncooperative locker._

* * *

 _Week Two of school: As a freshman, Lizzy was predisposed to be unpopular. And she still hadn't asked anyone their name. She was saving it for someone she really wanted to be friends with._

 _She wanted to be friends (but also enemies) with whoever kept leaving sheet music in her locker. It was a little annoying to open her locker and have paper spill out onto the floor, but she needed to find out who was sliding it through the locker slits. She would either pulverize them or laugh. It depended._

* * *

 _Week Three: Lizzy caught him. It had been a careful plan. From her observations, he must have done it earlier than she even got to school, because the paper was always waiting for her. She woke up an hour earlier, and asked her mother to take her early._

 _The collection of music had accumulated to a pile on her bedside dresser, and she was strangely curious as to what the little notes signified._

 _As it turned out, he wasn't slipping it through the grates this time. Somehow he knew her combination, as his fingers moved expertly to twist it open. It was beautiful, but she crept up behind him._

 _It was the glasses kid. He had politely asked her to not crush his glasses against the wall. She removed some of the pressure from behind his head. As he relaxed into the gap between her clenched fist and the hard tile, she whispered, "Why are you putting stuff in my locker?"_

" _I didn't know how else to get your attention."_

" _What, besides actually talking to me, genius?" she hissed, sarcastically._

" _You never talked to me, and you always seemed ready to hit anyone who talked to you. And I'm not very good at talking to people."_

" _Shut up. Who wrote this sheet music anyway?"_

" _I did. I play the piano."_

" _Oh, so now you can force it down my throat?"_

" _No, I just thought that maybe you played the piano."_

" _I don't. But now you're going to have to play all this out loud for me. Make some time in your schedule."_

" _Okay. My name's Roderich, by the way."_

" _Here's my phone number, Roderich." She slipped the prepared piece of paper into his pocket, and released him._

 _He fell away from the wall, smiling._

* * *

 _They both stayed after school, Lizzy on an unspoken invitation, and Roderich with the same understanding of an arrangement. They met in the music room._

" _Are you in band?" Lizzy asked him, as she stood over a collection of trombone pieces._

" _Yes, I play piano in concert band. I don't do marching band though. I wouldn't have time to do homework or compose if I had to play at football games every weekend. I don't even like football."_

" _Hmm, you're strange. Now go play these on the piano." She handed him the sheets._

" _Thanks." he muttered, going over to the piano._

 _There, his fingers curled in familiar arches over the keys. Lizzy admired his straightened posture. It was like every inch of his body knew what it was doing. This was a ritual, and he was ready to put everything into this pursuit._

 _Lizzy doubted that he even needed the sheet music. He seemed to know every note by heart. The music drew words from her heart, and put others in her mind. She could see rushing waters, in a connection between the music that she had not thought of; it simply was there, because of the music. Flowing was the only word Lizzy could think to use to describe it._

 _Roderich lifted his foot from the pedal, and the piano caught its breath._

" _It was water - I mean it looks like water. Well, sounds like water. Good image." Lizzy said, sputtering a little over her word choice._

 _He turned around. "Yeah. It was kind of supposed to be about that. Did you like it?"_

" _I basically already said yes. So yes. You'd better start the next one." She indicated the stack, "You've got a lot more to play through."_

 _Roderich sighed._

* * *

The coffee made Lizzy feel a little more stable. She painted her nails. The small bottle of thick paint was purple. Her right hand was easier, but the left one was nearly impossible, especially as the hand she used to apply it wavered.

Lizzy went over to her mirror. It was no longer useful to her, except to convey her own offensiveness.

There was a scratching inside her. Lizzy put a hand over the spot of skin shielding her heart. She knew the sensation wasn't real. But she also knew her soul needed something drastic, and uncharacteristic. She wanted to scream, but instead reached for a pair of scissors that she had been keeping near the mirror, in case she needed them.

Her hand wound around the handles. The plastic sunk into a spot of soft paint on her pointer finger. She sighed, inspecting the inflicted area. There was an indent, and she would have to repaint the whole nail.

Lizzy brought the pointed metal up to her cheek. She opened the blades, and threaded a section of her hair through it, and sliced at an angle. Brown strands fell. _Ugh, I'm going to have to clean this up._

It took her half an hour to chop everything off to about the same length.

The process had started out giving her an anxious feeling, which had been her intention; to force herself to feel something, and to do something adventurous. By the time she was cleaning up pieces of her own hair from the floor, she had been emptied out again.

* * *

Lizzy noticed that Gilbert let some things slip out from behind his mask when he was talking about himself. He was very hesitant to say anything positive about himself, and never acknowledged his own kindness. Occasionally, he would even say things that she had interpreted as hatred. Never directed towards her, and always regretful. And always for himself.

She didn't spend much time at his house, but she was always fascinated by the flowers they grew. Gilbert fully attributed these to his brother. Among the yard, heavy with the smell of flourishing flowers, she found a bird cage. It was ornate, and housed a bouquet of cornflowers. They hadn't been planted, and yet the contrast of white metal and delicate life was enough for Lizzy. She photographed it. Gilbert said that the cage had belonged to his bird, and Lizzy didn't ask what had happened.

 _Beauty at a price, I guess. No matter what, do we always pay for beauty? It couldn't be free. I can't be free, and I'm hardly beautiful._

"Hey, you should take a picture of Ludwig. He absolutely hates being photographed." Gilbert said.

Lizzy smiled. _Why is it so easy to pretend to be happy, when you can't, when you feel sad, or when you feel nothing?_

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please review.**

 **I broke my own heart writing about Roddy again. Oops.**

 **Have a nice Easter!**

 **Guest Review**

 **Guest: Thank you! It means a lot to me.**


	19. Perpetually Luminous Stellar Field

She was thinking about Gilbert again. A car next to hers beeped impatiently, and she pulled forward to make up for her lack of focus that had caused her to slow and stop in a line of lagging, cumbersome traffic.

She pulled out her phone at the red light, and put it on speaker as she called him. Sometimes, even knowing that she couldn't love him, she wanted to act like she did.

"Hey, it's Lizzy." she said into the air, addressing Gilbert, but perhaps reaching nothing more than the area of the car's interior.

"Hi Lizzy. What's up?"

He had become so much more comfortable in talking to her. Their friendship had relaxed. They weren't on formal terms anymore, and Lizzy marveled, not for the first or last time, at how quickly their friendship had formed.

"Not much. I'm stuck in traffic. How are you?"

"Pretty good."

"Okay. Have you seen Michelle recently?" She casually called out his ritual lie.

"Umm, yeah, I think it was last week. Luddy is making me go. And he's paying for it too."

"You should go if you want to feel better. Why would he have to force you?" Lizzy said, in a mildly scolding tone.

"Well, I haven't felt very 'helped'. Michelle does her best, and it probably works for most people. But I'm different. I don't think I can escape this. Besides, I feel like a terrible person for making my brother pay for this, when it's probably hopeless anyway."

"No! Never say that again." Lizzy heaved a breath, her words were said hoarsely, as if she was actually angry. As if she could actually feel anger. "You will get better. I know it. I know you will."

"You really believe that?" he asked. It wasn't an actual question. It was an opposition.

"Yes, I really do. If I didn't believe in something, I wouldn't be here."

"Don't say that, Lizzy."

"Then don't say you won't get better. And don't worry about Ludwig paying. He loves you, and you aren't forcing him to pay it. He's doing it because he wants to."

"You know, it's scary because sometimes I can distinguish between what is true, and what isn't, and sometimes I can't. Right now, I know what you're saying is true, but I can't believe it. But I don't want to argue with you."

This was one of the first signs, and one that Lizzy could have interpreted as Gilbert's personal hatred. She chose to ignore it, not even feeling guilty. Yet.

"Then don't. But I'm right."

Gilbert laughed. "Yup. Always."

"Can I swing by on my way home. Or do you think it should be a surprise?"

"Actually, I'll probably forget about it, so it will be a surprise. So yeah, if you want to."

"Don't sound so disappointed." she teased.

"I'm not. Just tired."

"Well, you can sleep until I get there. Then I expect your full attention."

"Yes, milady."

* * *

Gilbert waited. Lizzy knocked, and he woke up from the couch. It was briefly a genuine surprise, mostly caused by drowsy confusion.

The door wasn't even locked, and Lizzy broke and entered easily. She was like an angel in the slowly decaying sun, her shape outlined as a shadow cast behind her like wings that reached from her shoulders and down to touch the grass. The first thing he saw was her hair. More than half of it had been misplaced. It looked graceful at her chin, still lilting with gentle brown waves.

"You cut your hair." He said.

"Yeah. What do you think?"

"It looks nice."

"Thanks." She stepped forward a bit, and he could see her face, inlaid with her eyes.

"So, is this the surprise. Because I took a nap, and forgot that you were coming."

"I'll just be here a minute. I really wanted to show you my haircut."

"Luddy will flip. He's not used to change."

"Haha, well I'm sure he'll adapt."

"Hopefully," Gilbert said with fake seriousness, "Or I don't know what will happen." His eyebrows wavered up and down, in a comical foreboding.

They simultaneously went out onto the porch, sitting to watch the sun rest beneath a building. Even after they could not longer see it, the light illuminated the sky, until it was night. They had no need for words, just sitting and being there was enough, for the moment. Words never helped anyway.

"It never really goes away, does it? The sun, I mean. Even when we can't see it anymore, it's still lighting everything. Like the moon. I guess that stars would still be there, but are they bright enough that we would see them without any other light? I don't know. I'm not a scientist." Gilbert said, "It's probably stupid to think that."

"No. I wouldn't know. It's pretty interesting though. The sun can hurt us too. And maybe someday it will even get so close to earth that we all get so comfortable in this world that we stop asking questions about it, or thinking about how dangerously balanced we are."

"I forget that everyone's lives are so fragile. It makes little _problems_ seem trivial. And if the whole world was focused on humanity's survival, they might not care or have time for wars, or fighting."

"Wow, Gilbert. That was deep." Lizzy said.

"You started it." He laughed.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please review.**

 **Sorry the chapter is so late and short.**


	20. Oath of God

Lizzy was on break. Granted, it was intended to be a short one; her wages didn't merit too much of a reprieve. She wanted coffee. It burned her tongue a little as she sipped it, but the warmth drew her back again, like a moth to the flame.

Lizzy had been sitting to drink her coffee, preparing to go back into the battlefield that was human communication. She stood, and felt her mouth filling with saliva, regardless of how many times she swallowed it back down, like telltale buckets of water being repleted to stop a fire. Something burned in the back of her throat.

Her insides churned, and boiled. Lizzy's stomach leapt, thrusting something acidic upward, and from there into her throat. She couldn't stop it, and involuntarily gagged. Something was in her mouth. She didn't want to dwell on that.

She stood, and knew that she wasn't walking straight. Her head spun, and seemed to be weightless, inflated with air. _I am going to faint, and fall over, and someone will find my body here, and wonder why I'm passed out on the floor of the break room._ Her thoughts were fragmented  too.

The restroom was in sight, and also in use. Lizzy stood, trying to look patient, and not wish ill on whoever was inside. It would be alright as long as no one tried to talk to her.

 _Faint- spinning….everything..my eyes burn-_

The women left and apologized for having used it so long. Lizzy nodded her forgiveness, and threw the door closed behind her as she rushed inside. The bathroom was strange, because it was a single, and attached to the coffee room. It had been the closest.

Lizzy spat out into the toilet. She closed her eyes, and wished life didn't have to be so painful. She needed to get rid of something. Her body rejected more stomach acid, until nothing was left, and she dry heaved. It hurt. _It hurts_.

The room swayed, and Lizzy couldn't think. People would wonder where she was, and she was coughing on the carpet of the editors' private bathroom.

Another surge of nausea came. Lizzy felt it, but no relief. She forced her fingers down her throat, and produced the same result. Her gag reflex was painless in comparison to the debilitating headache.

At that moment, someone knocked on the door. Lizzy could have laughed, but she probably would have choked. "Sorry, I'll be out in a minute." she called, after spewing as quietly into the toilet as possible.

The pause lengthened. Lizzy wiped her mouth with tissues, and sprayed the room with enough air freshener to light the place on fire. Assuming that it was flammable. She washed her hands, still feeling unclean.

One glance over her shoulder at the co-worker (still higher on the caste) was all Lizzy needed to confirm that she had indeed failed at being discreet.

Lizzy was so strong, that all life could do to hurt her was to take away everything that she loved. Instead of taking these things away, it took her ability to love them. This hurt her even more because she could see them, and never have them. She knew that her own body and soul had been inflicted, and there was no sign that she would ever recover.

The question clawed at her mind: _Why did Roderich have to die? Was it me?_

Because, no matter how you looked at it, Roderich was squarely to blame in the affair, as callous as this sounded. Lizzy wished she could blame herself, and then at least look for some form of absolution, if not forgiveness. But the morals, the answers, the questions, and the matter itself remained stubbornly complicated. Nothing made sense anymore, so Lizzy stopped trying to figure it out, and resolved to answering "I don't know" when her mind felt like asking.

Not that she cared. Not that she could.

 _If I cried, it would first be for myself,_ she decided. _I will be selfish and cry for myself first, because that would mean that it was all over. And then I could be happy. It's all I want really: Happiness or sleep. I probably can't have either._

* * *

One day (the days had ceased to have numbers attributed to them in her mind; they all seemed the same; so long, empty, and endless,) in July, Lizzy got a package. It was from Feliks's address, and Lizzy knew that something was wrong. Feliks wouldn't have needed to send her anything. The blond could have emailed her, or used any of a thousand other methods of contact.

Inside, the first thing she saw was the present, far before the card, just like on her birthdays. It was pristine white paper, marred with fierce black scribbles. She still didn't know what they meant, but something broke at the sight of Roderich's sheet music.

She couldn't hold it, for risk of it ripping in her unsteady hands. A card poked from the top of the yellow packaging envelope. And suddenly a few pieces of paper that would have meant the world to Lizzy under different circumstances fell to the ground.

She bent to pick up the paper. Her mind fell into one of its lapses. She had a vision of fallen sheet music, all over the ground, and she was going to have to pick it up. Why would he never stop giving her sheet music?

The card was of most interest. It read:

 _For Lizzy, because I could not be Beethoven:_

 _I think that I would almost rather go deaf than face this anguish anymore. Almost, because music and my medicine have become the only solace for me. And one will kill me. I wish I could just die without having to open all these doors, and you will all wonder why. The sad thing is, I know that I am loved. But I also cannot take this anymore. When I numb my emotions, it turns them off, but always they come back. They all wear off. And they rip me apart when they do. I can only hide with what I have, and I have chosen now to leave. I have come out into the open, death may find me._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Roderich_

Feliks explained it in an email she received a day later.

 _Lizzy,_

 _I'm sorry I didn't give this to you earlier. Closure and all. But I only just found it the other day. I think it was the last thing he wrote, because...well it was on the roof. I told you about the other one in his house, didn't I? The sheet music was in his will. Like, not his actual will. The one he would have written. So you know, I thought, what the heck. I'll break the law and give his sheet music to the person who he'd have wanted to have it. He told me so. Anyway, I miss you. Be safe._

 _-Feliks_

Lizzy put the sheet music in her dresser cabinet, where it could be kept safe or rot, until her life figured itself out.

* * *

Lizzy knew that the space between Michelle and her was minimal, so the counselor could probably see all the signs of fatigue. Her eyes had the constant shadows beneath them, unsuccessfully paled by cover up.

Michelle's words proved it. "Have you been sleeping at all?"

"Not lately. If I do, usually I have nightmares." Lizzy sighed.

"I'm sorry. A month at most. I promise that I'll get you on medication by the end of the 's just," a break of frustration had begun to embellish her voice. Lizzy knew it wasn't meant for her.

"I understand." Lizzy said. She didn't. But there was nothing she could do, and nothing that would make the situation matter to her. _By the time I can actually care about being depressed, I won't be. Hopefully._ Hope was there again, that elusive word, Lizzy used it freely, but it had no meaning. Her hope was a small, delicate glass globe, and once it had soared like a bird in her soul, higher and higher. The higher it went, the more pieces it broke into when it finally fell. Now she would even have liked to feel the pain of crushed hopes.

"Have you contacted Katya or Bella recently?"

 _I knew I had forgotten something._ Lizzy's life had become very much contained within the town, with depression, and Gilbert, and work, and everyday. She had forgotten about the people who didn't know her secret.

"Actually no. I really need to call them."

"Yeah, you should. They've contacted me, personally not professionally. As your counselor, I'm trying to help you. As your friend, I'm worried about you. They were worried about you."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be Lizzy. Just, I know I can't ask you this, but I want you to believe that you can get better. I'm not supposed to tell patients that. I mean, not directly. I'm supposed to be more caustic than this. But I can't help that I have feelings too."

"And I don't have feelings anymore, Michelle. I think, sometimes, that it's just the way I am now."

* * *

 **Oh my gosh, I am so sorry that this is so late in the day. But until the summer, I might have to post later in the day, because of homework. Hopefully not this late again.**

 **Lizzy decided to hog this chapter, so I named it after her: Elizabeth means oath of God.**

 **Guest Reviews**

 **Chapter 18 Guest: Thank you so much! I'm glad it made you feel better. Your review made _me_ feel better.**

 **Chapter 19 Guest: I'm glad you saw the hope. That was really one of the major things I intended to do with that chapter. It was meant to show that people live with depression, and that you can survive, and get help. They are still depressed, but there can still be hope. Thank you!**


	21. Galoshes

Gilbert hated going shopping. If he had money, he'd be spending it on cooler things than groceries. That was probably why he didn't have money.

The store had people, and he had to spend money on things he didn't want, but he needed. Like soap, and shampoo, and razors. And milk. Luddy had given him a list, and money. It was so that Gilbert would feel useful, be useful, and not withering around his house all day, alone.

No one had bothered to read Gilbert's mind, and so everything was stored at opposite ends of the store, making to entire ordeal a loathsome trek from aisle to aisle. Not that he wasn't accustomed to it.

* * *

" _Go faster!" Luddy whined from his race car that was actually just a shopping cart. And not even the cool one that actually looked like a race car. It was a plain, ordinary, plastic cart, and Luddy couldn't fit in the designated child's seat anymore._

 _"You know, I love it when you demand things in that tone of voice." said Gilbert, sarcastically, still retaining his one mile an hour speed._

 _"Please?" Luddy revised._

Smart kid, _Gilbert thought._ Of course, because he's my brother. _"Nice try, Luddy. But that doesn't change the fact that this cart is really heavy, and I can't charge around the store with you. It would be dangerous."_

 _"A knight like in the fairy tales wouldn't be scared." Ludwig muttered sullenly._

 _"Yeah, well life isn't a fairy tale, if you hadn't noticed." Gilbert said, as he grabbed a gallon of milk._

 _"It should be."_

 _"Yeah. It should." The brothers stopped pensively, thinking deeply, and staring towards a tower of paper towel rolls._

* * *

Gilbert looked back at the produce section, his daydream, or memory slinking away. _We were just kids. I don't think we should have gone through so much. But I hope I kept Luddy normal. I shouldn't be doing this in a grocery store,_ he finished, feelings tears forming.

 _And why on earth would he want pasta?_

Gilbert passed through the check-out line with his armful of groceries. The cashier babbled, but he wasn't in the mood. After paying quickly, he left.

The sky had abandoned light, and the parking lot was moist with falling rain. Some spots on the black asphalt gleamed with its borrowed light, reflected from streetlamps, like diamonds, and seeming to burn like an orange fire beneath the wet ground.

Gilbert couldn't remember where he had parked his car, but the darkness was so beautiful, and rain-filled, that he almost wanted to stay there anyway. He could lean against the storefront on the sidewalk, beneath the overhanging store roof, and sleep, or watch people run out to their cars shielding groceries, some with rain gear, others without. It was a nice thought, but easily deglamorized if you accounted being hauled off by police for loitering. And he couldn't just leave Ludwig. After all, what would he do without a crate of oranges, and ten ballpoint pens?

He found his car by pressing the magic car keys button. Luddy had taught him that. It was useful, especially for the inept.

The interior of Ludwig's car was cold with the settling air of night, and a storm. Gilbert shivered slightly as he got into the driver's seat. He drove, the night making the boring little town less unsightly, seeing as you couldn't see half of it, and the deep blue of the sky make everything a little prettier.

Gilbert unloaded the bags from the car, and found out what the pasta had been about: they had company.

Feliks was dripping on his doorstep, and a large, pink raincoat was draped over Feli.

"Hey. We're kind of running away for a bit, mind if we stay here?"

"What!" Gilbert nearly dropped the bags into a mud puddle.

"Well, I already told Ludwig. And here we are. Surprise!" Feliks grinned weakly.

"Oh. Yeah, okay. I'll unlock the door then." He made his way clumsily around them, and managed to open the door while gripping three full, plastic grocery bags in one hand. He allowed Feliks and Feliciano to brushed past him, the collective rain water from their clothing collecting on his shirt. He closed the door with one hand.

"Luddy, I'm home! And also, Feliks's here with Feli." He turned to the two evacuees, but specifically at Feliks. "You're going to have to explain this to me now."

"Yeah. Long story short, taking care of Feli in my house got really complicated,because I don't necessarily own my house. Actually, I'm renting. And the people I was renting from didn't want any legal trouble with the Adoption Agency, just in case something came up and they got dragged into it. Pretty stupid, but now my rent is on suspension. I'm allowed to move back in as long as I don't have Feli with me. So I was going to settle that out of town, and then go back up. But I only have to be here for a night. I can go back up. Toris would let me stay with him too. And maybe Lizzy. I'll try not to burden you."

"You won't burden us." Ludwig said, stepping into the room.

"But where will I live?" Feli said. His voice was so unsuspecting and sweet, as if some part of him still hoped that he could stay.

* * *

"They're here now." Gilbert told Lizzy over the phone.

"It's just like then." she whispered. Gilbert decided that he didn't need to really know what she meant.

"Feliks is on a vacation. So it's not like you'll have to watch Feli, or anything. I just thought that you should know."

"Okay. I see. Tell them I said hi."

"I will. Goodnight!"

"'Night, Gilbert."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please review.**

 **Adorable Luddy is adorable. I regret nothing.**

 **Guest Review**

 **Guest: Thank you! Michelle is based on my counselor, who was very nice too.**


	22. Our Daily Bread

Gilbert and Ludwig offered food, but Feliks said that they had stopped at a rest station. "I can sleep on the floor, and Feli can sleep on the couch."

"We have sleeping bags." Ludwig offered.

"Thank you." Feliks said.

"Why didn't you go to Toris first?" Gilbert said, no longer able to hold the question back.

"I'm really terrified of his neighbor. And I kind of wanted to take some of the burden off of him. It's hard for him, and you know that I'm a lot to handle. Maybe even more so than Feli. But together, we might stress him out. So that's my excuse. Why are you still leeching off of Ludwig?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it leeching. I'm being moral support?"

"Nice. I'd do that if I had siblings."

"Your nonexistent siblings have dodged a bullet." Gilbert said.

 _I'm not a burden. I'm not a burden._ Gilbert had to tell himself this every day. Because without words that he didn't believe, life would have already torn away.

"But I won't be here forever. Soon enough, I'll have my own job, and maybe my own apartment."

"Yeah. Adulthood sucks."

They both looked around to see if Feli was there. He wasn't, and Gilbert couldn't help but feel that life in general was the problem. It was preying on a little boy who had no idea what normal meant because by the time he was integrated into a family, it got taken away from him. Not for the first time, Gilbert realized: _Life isn't fair._

* * *

The dawn rose, and nobody but Ludwig was awake. Feliks lay scrambled out on the floor. Half of his body was in the sleeping bag, and the other side had splayed across the carpet. His blonde hair was thrown messily around his face and neck.

Feliciano seemed to be sleeping. Everything on his face had become still. His eyes that drooped in sleep scrunched a little as light came into the living room through a window, but his body remained steadfastly asleep.

Across the hardwood floor, a large black duffle bag sat gutted, clothing and toiletries overflowing. Ludwig sighed, and ignored the mess.

 _Kindness doesn't always go hand in hand with organization_. A flaw, perhaps, but nothing was perfect, to Ludwig's constant dissatisfaction.

They all lived in a world where breakfast still had to be made for a household, meaning that one person would have to sacrifice an hour or so of sleep to get up and make an omelet out of eight eggs (there had been twelve in the cardboard carton), leaving him with a fourth of what they had just bought. _I'll need to send Gilbert to the store again. I wasn't thinking about all the extra food to make with two extra mouths to feed. Or maybe I'll just go myself, for efficiency._

Life wasn't efficient. It was six in the morning, and Ludwig still had to go to work, clean the house, make breakfast, and make sure that everyone else in the house was reasonably not going to set things on fire and burn down the house. For someone so good at organizing his own things, Ludwig found leadership exhausting, even if he was gifted in yelling at people, and getting them to do what he wanted.

He left the eggs in a tin foil package to retain warmth, and then he himself left for a walk. Being allowed to walk around the neighborhood was a privilege that came with adulthood. When he'd been little, Gilbert wouldn't have let him go out by himself. " _Too dangerous. Someone could kidnap you."_ He would have said.

Well, anyone who wanted to kidnap Ludwig now would be met with a formidable defense, and was probably stupid to begin with for even thinking that they could manage to tackle such a large man.

The door creaked open indiscreetly, and slammed a little too loudly as he closed it behind him. More things to fix, when he had time; the door's hinges, mechanisms, and maybe his own temperament, if the problem was more of impatience and a lack of control.

Outside, it was sunrise time in summer. Ludwig had forgotten to put his watch on, but he looked at his wrist out of habit. Not many people were up, based on the lightless windows. Or maybe they were awake in the dark. Morning was fuzzy, and Ludwig knew his thoughts weren't straightened out yet. No coffee = no thinking.

His long gait brought him down a few blocks before he had even figured out where he was going. Nowhere, really. Walking had a controlled rhythm. The real problem was finding the starting line (his own house) again after a half hour of directionless meandering. Especially since he wasn't thinking enough to look where he was going. Or he was thinking too much. When he did look up, the world was brighter. Things like that seemed to happen when Ludwig wasn't paying attention, or when he allowed himself a break from noticing every single detail. Important details wouldn't slip past him, but good things could. It was a sacrifice to being who he was; whatever that was. Sometimes Ludwig would try to figure it out, but he'd given up.

* * *

Feliks woke up, and felt alone. He wasn't alone, but even an impression of it was enough. Feliks liked to think that he wasn't weak, but he cried on the floor because no one could see him.

The next thing that hit him was hunger. Half of what he'd told the Beilschmidt's about eating dinner the past night had been true. Feli had eaten, he had not. In retrospect, he should have; better to waste his own money than theirs, as he would have to now by eating their food.

It was on the glass kitchen table. There was enough that Feliks figured some was intended for him.

 _People can be so nice, or so mean._ It was a summary of everything that had been philosophizing in his mind; and accumulation of recent examples of human nature.

He got up, wiped away the useless tears ( _They never do anything but make your eyes red)_ , and and was drawn to the food, trying not to feel bad about his plans to eat some of it. Before he could get there, he eased some of the anticipatory guilt by making his sleeping bag into a flat, thick rectangle, and rezipping the duffle bag. It was the least he could so. Really, even below the minimum required to repay the hospitality being provided. It was almost an expectation. _Haha, considering I don't even meet expectations usually, this is an accomplishment._

Feliks's feet were so cold that they hurt. He thought of a soldier in battle, waiting out a long winter with bandages around his feet, bleeding, waiting for another battle, knowing that the pain he felt now would only be a fraction of what could come later. The comparison was selfish he knew. The only thing he was fighting for was himself. Still, the floor felt like ice, and didn't promote thoughts of compassion within Feliks's heart.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please review.**

 **Sorry it's late!**

 **Guest Review**

 **Guest: Thank you! Feliks and Feli are both staying with the Beilschmidts, so they're still together but not staying at Feliks's house. I'm sorry if it was confusing.**


	23. Infect

Doctor Olson looked over the papers again. Nothing indicated that he needed to take immediate action. Lizzy Héderváry, he remembered talking to her. Vaguely. She seemed more like a confused young adult, probably someone who hadn't figured out what they were going to do in life yet. That itself could be enough to delude people into thinking that they were 'depressed'.

 _But she had been defiant at this suggestion. "Maybe my age factors into it to a degree, but I have been diagnosed clinically. My counselor has said that it isn't just something that could be fixed with talk-therapy-"_

 _He cut her off. "You'll need to get another psychological test done here. I cannot take the word of a counselor. It's a completely different field, and sometimes they don't know what they're talking about." He smiled reassuringly._

 _All these young people_ , he thought, _so eager to be put on drugs. Like it's the only solution to all their problems._ He left his office to go outside. It was the only place he'd be allowed to smoke.

* * *

August was a hell month. The days were scorching, and monotonous. Even the way and manner in which nature displayed itself was rote. The trees never changed, the sun was cheerfully bright, and beat mercilessly, birds sang, life went on, not caring if humanity kept up. Lizzy would long for rainy days; they were softer, and the light didn't hurt her tired eyes as much.

It was sunny now, but the world was still damp with the memory of rain. Lizzy had a psychology appointment. That put a damper on of top everything else.

The doctor had two different offices on either end of the town. Both of them were situated within trashy parking lots surrounded by meadows of tufty weeds, and hidden inside thin, tall, ugly buildings that were sectioned off into separate offices for other organizations.

Lizzy had to walk past the other doors in the building, always trying to remember which number was the right one.

She waited, refusing to read any of the rags that were supposed to be magazines. Even if they had been informative, Lizzy thought that reading about the state of humanity could only depress her further.

A couple came out of the office ahead of the doctor. He waited slightly within the door of his adjoining room. "You can come in."

She did. The room was much more open and impersonal than Michelle's homey little one. It had a window that let in clear, unfiltered sunlight, a couch that sat positioned to catch this light. On the walls were paintings, and on the tables expensive looking statues and pottery. Like a cross between a clinic and a museum, while retaining the feeling of an office building.

He took the seat opposite to her. It was notably a chair, and not meant for comfort; plastic and metal, next to a desk that was neatly covered in paperwork. A reminder that she was the one who needed to be comforted, and he was a professional.

"I see you've gotten a haircut. Why?"

It was very direct, and too familiar. Lizzy didn't like him. "I wanted too."

He wrote down: _Sudden change in appearance._ He thought: _Might need to push for medication a little faster. Possibility of suicidal tendencies. I should ask. Though I don't like suggesting medicine._

The doctor switched tactics. "Have you ever felt suicidal? And if so, do you have a plan"

Lizzy recognized these questions; they had haunted her, followed her through surveys and questionnaires. "Kill myself? A plan? Not yet. I've felt so burdened that I thought it was unbearable, but I've never considered...well that."

It was a blatant lie. It was a lie that years of psychological analysis allowed him to see right through. He had known smiling people under his care with those same lies in their eyes and words, who had ended their internal misery. Lizzy was lying, and he overlooked it.

Lizzy instantly regretted leaving such an untruth out. It was unproductive. _Why would you lie about that? Don't be embarrassed; you need to get help. It would get medication faster._ She shifted, and the smooth couch beneath her seemed ready to slide her off. _It doesn't matter, as long as you know you won't kill yourself. We'll get on medications anyways. And next visit I can tell him about it by pretending that they just started._ Lizzy hated that she was actually planning to lie for her own satisfaction, and to avoid awkwardly backtracking, and restating the truth to Doctor Olson.

When she got home, everything was the same. The appointment had been so disappointing that Lizzy called Michelle for a "second opinion" of sorts. She remembered all things she should have told the doctor about.

"Michelle, I almost cut. I really considered it. The knife was right there. I don't know why I stopped. Not recently, but I didn't tell Doctor Olson, so I figured someone should know. But I'll admit that it sounds like it could make me feel really alive." she confessed.

Michelle didn't speak for a long while, so that Lizzy actually wondered if the line had died. But when she finally did, it was void of all her usual pleasantness; raw and clearly unprepared for such a serious topic of discussion. But Michelle had words ready. Lizzy didn't know if they were fresh, or pulled out of storage. It couldn't be the first time Michelle had dealt with the issue.

"Before you cut, I want you to look at pictures of yourself as a child. Look at yourself back when you didn't hate her, and the world didn't seem to either. Look at your little hands and wrists and tell me you would cut them, make them bleed: hurt that child if she stood in front of you. Because you are the same person with the same body, and it is the same."

"But circumstances-" Lizzy sputtered.

"No. Don't hurt yourself."

"I'll try. I do try, every day. But nothing ever seems to change, which is why cutting ever became relevant to me."

Michelle was quiet. "You should have another appointment with either me, or Doctor Olson. I'm pushing for your medications. Please hold on."she said.

"I'm trying, Chelles."

"Bye, Lizzy."

"Good bye."

* * *

 _Sometimes, Gilbert couldn't make it to school. He would wake up, eat breakfast, change into clothing, and wait. And wait. Because his father was sometimes wasted; too drunk to drive, and not about to wake up. It was on these mornings that Gilbert would wake Ludwig up, get him similarly prepared for school, and walk his brother down several blocks to the Public Elementary School._

 _Gilbert missed school occasionally, but he ensured_ _that Luddy never did. He wondered if his father even cared._ It's not like there's anybody home _, he thought bitterly, recalling every blank faced stare, and empty expression he had ever seen adorning his father's face. These days it did not so much adorn his face; it had become his face, and it was a constant reminder that the powerful man had fallen, and wasn't qualified to care for his own children._

 _Gilbert was no longer embarrassed by this. In the past he had been ashamed of his weak father; now he only took it as a challenge. He must be better, stronger, more capable._

In most respects he was, but he had ceased to see it in himself.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please Review.**

 **Hey, I actually updated sort of on time today. Miracles do happen.**

 **I'm recovering from a huge History project, and I am so tired right now.**

 **Note: Thankfully, Doctor Olson isn't based on any personal experience.**


	24. (On) Purpose

Ludwig returned to find a segment of egg carefully fenced off for him, and the rest devoured. Other than this evidence, nothing could point to signs of life within the house. They had all evaporated.

Ludwig meandered through his house, unsure of what to do without his charges. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw something on the refrigerator, just as he passed it. He turned and reentered the room.

 ** _Luddy,_**

 ** _I went to visit Lizzy, and Feliks took Feli to the park. Thanks for the food._**

 ** _-Gil_**

Ludwig nodded to himself, and went back to his routine. Get dressed, drink coffee, pull on boots, pack bags for work, leave at nine o'clock.

Ludwig left the house again, closing the door behind him with a quiet jolt, this time.

* * *

Gilbert's visit was unexpected, and as it was a work day, Lizzy was leaving rather than staying in her house. She almost tripped over him on her way out. He was sitting on her doorstep.

"Gil, what are you doing?" she asked, catching her breath, and adjusting strands of her short hair. She stopped arranging it as he rose from the lowest step to his full height.

"Visiting you. I brought flowers." He said, as if the whole thing was that simple, and they were really just friends falling in love instead of into a deep, vast, black ocean of despair, with no air.

They were pretty flowers, and dirt still clung to the roots. "Where did you get them?" she asked, accepting them. She shook a little earth from them.

"Err, the ground?"

"Whose?"

"Mine, actually. I didn't know that my- I mean Luddy's- flowers were still alive. It's been so hot, I thought that they'd have wilted. But I guess not."

"Some flowers need a lot of sunlight, so this weather would be perfect for them." She picked through the flowers, and pulled out a large pink one. She wove it into her hair with a bobby pin.

"I'll put these in some water." She disappeared back into the house.

"Okay." he called, too late for her to hear.

"I have to go to work." she said as she stepped back outside, this time with a small purse on her shoulder.

"Oh, have fun." he said.

"Yeah. I will. Bye!"

She went passed him, and around the bend of her small yard, to where her car was parked on the road.

"I'll see you!" She had got in the car, and was rolling down the window.

"See you!" he echoed.

Gilbert waited for Lizzy. Although he couldn't see it, the flowers in her house waited too. The flowers, like Gilbert's eyes, drooped a little more every hour.

Gilbert didn't know why he was waiting for Lizzy. She confused him a lot. He wasn't in love with her, but he had brought her flowers so _what did that mean_? What was his subconscious trying to tell him? It seemed important. Flowers were beautiful, but they meant something. He couldn't imagine giving friendship flowers. His subconscious agreed. People don't typically give each other 'friendship flowers'. She had put one in her hair. Did friends usually blush and laugh a lot around each other? Gilbert was terrified to wonder whether he was in love underneath his depression. And if it went away, would it still remain, or did it exist as a facet of depression. _Too many questions. It's too complicated._

He wondered if it was real. Of course, they were both faking love. But it was fun, even if they knew the truth; they couldn't not be in love. But was Lizzy really unhappy, underneath all her smiles? _Of course she is. No one happy could look that sad while smiling. And I'm probably the only one who can see it._ Gilbert had to remind himself that he didn't want her to be unhappy, even if it meant he was alone. He wondered if he was really in love, under everything.

Like always, people walked around the block. They seemed like a different species in comparison to Gilbert; one that could experience happiness. Every human struggled, _how were they all so good at hiding it?_ It made Gilbert feel strange, like he was the only one who had ever felt that way, because everyone else could go on never looking like they suffered. .

The sky stayed constant, the clouds beneath it sweeping across with the wind. They were a spot of color in a grey territory. It was the only color that seemed to be allowed ( _Even the people dress blandly)_. _Well not anymore,_ he thought of the colorful flowers in Lizzy's kitchen. The sky acted as a banner over the whole community. It was shared with the whole world.

Gilbert stayed because waiting gave him a purpose; Lizzy. He could wait, knowing what his goal was. Without an end goal, life seemed pointless. And if he couldn't strategize, figure out, or even improvise his way through it, the game was in precarious balance.

Little things gave him purpose. Getting up in the morning to drink inhumane amounts of coffee, going to get groceries for Ludwig, visiting Lizzy, maintaining a flower garden. He needed _something_ to do. The alternative wasn't pleasant to conjecture about.

* * *

Lizzy went to counseling after her work. She knew exactly what she needed to tell Michelle, and wished that her friend would just pick up her phone so that she wouldn't have to go through the process of a visit to have a conversation. Michelle was being stubborn. But the office was empty when Lizzy got there.

She went directly in, sitting comfortably across from her friend, as if it was her own living room. Michelle looked up from her book.

"Oh, hi Lizzy. How are you?"

"You and I both know that's a stupid question." Lizzy gritted out. She was irrationally angry at something, and she didn't know what.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Michelle noted the tone, and the aggression.

"I'm depressed, and we didn't finish talking about it."

"Okay. Let's talk." Michelle folded her hands over the blue covered novel.

"When I was a child, I used to think that dreams kept us alive while we were asleep. I have no dreams, in real life. In my sleep, I dream of terrifying things."

Michelle thought, absorbing the words: _She's planned this entire conversation out in her head, and knows all her words. Premeditated anger. But I hope it's not meant for me._

"Didn't you ever have anything to to hold on to? An ambition, or just something you like doing." she said.

Lizzy looked like the idea hadn't crossed her mind in a while. _It's like I'm introducing myself to the class in middle school again. Do I have hobbies, anymore?_ "I've liked to garden for a while now, even though it's hard to maintain one with such terrible soil, and no space. But I help the Beilschmidt's with theirs. And I like photography. But I've lost my passion for everything."

"I see. I hate to say that you should force yourself to do things you don't enjoy anymore, but I think it's a good idea to do things that distract you. It can be calming, even if you aren't getting any happiness from it."

"I do. Anything that I'm holding on to is in my mind. My mind has become an arc for things I know mean a lot to me. Well, meant a lot to me. At the same time, it feels like my mind is the problem. My mind is a prison, and my body is the facility. I think I'm the prisoner, and I walk around with a name tag on that says: Hello, I am Depressed."

"Lizzy, I think that I'm biased. I have trouble giving you advice because you're my friend and not just a patient. You might - in fact I would encourage you to - find another counselor."

Lizzy felt a little sting, but this was all she could feel of a tremendous tidal wave. In her mind, she had the familiar feeling of knowing that she should be emotional, crushed. Instead she felt nothing, not even the breaking of a friendship. It wasn't really, she told herself. She could wake up, and this would be one long, bad dream. There would be elements that she would miss, but others that she would be so glad to be rid of.

But the feeling stayed with Lizzy as she left the office. She knew that the coldness in Michelle's voice was uncharacteristic. Michelle wasn't letting her go, just recommending something different. Lizzy couldn't think logically. She wasn't angry, but knew that later she would be, without reason. It felt, more than anything, like abandonment.

Abandonment only added to loneliness. She wished Michelle cared more about her problems, and then felt selfish for wishing it.

She got into her car, and thought about the bridge being out on a nearby road, but it was blocked off.

When she got home, Gilbert was still waiting. Lizzy looked at her watch, and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Gilbert, have you been waiting here all day?"

"Well, mostly. I may have fallen asleep for an hour or so. But I don't think I've voluntarily gone anywhere. Why?"

"You're crazy." She informed him.

"Haha, not as crazy as you. You've got a job all day, while I have the liberty to loiter in the street around people's houses all day, if I want to."

"Ooh, I feel privileged." Lizzy laughed. Laughter was nothing anymore, just another disguise. It was one they both indulged in, if only for a moment.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please Review.**

 **So, this May is the 1 year Anniversary of my depression. I'm getting counseling, and I'm on a waiting list to see a psychiatrist.**

 **My point is, if you need to talk to someone about being sad, or depression or anything else, I'm here, and you can PM me.**

 **Have a nice Mother's Day!**

 **Side Note: As of right now, I accidentally posted a review meant for another story on this story. So that's why I seem to have left a weird review on my own story...**


	25. Dandelions

_What is time? How long have I been this way? It's summer. But days pass like years, and slur together._

The day began brightly. Gilbert took advantage of the Saturday to kidnap Lizzy.

He called her first.

"Hello, this is Lizzy."

"Hi, it's Gilbert."

Ease slipped into her voice. "Hi! How are you?"

"Pretty much the same. How are you?"

"The same." she laughed. Gilbert knew it was forced, but they both knew every feint that would be made on each other's parts for the sake of pleasant conversation.

"Do you want to go somewhere with me today?" he asked. Somehow, he seemed to have more self-confidence now than he usually had. Maybe I'm not a bad person. The thought flickered and wavered, before it was silently buried. But it had existed, and this was enough to get Gilbert through the moment without an unkind mind to yell at his every action.

"Yeah. Where?" She sounded like she was tired, if a voice could show that much. It was usually stronger.

"It's a surprise."

"Alright. What time do you want me to drive over?"

"Two o'clock. And I'm borrowing my brother's car, so you can just wait for me like a damsel in distress." They both laughed, because of course Lizzy would never be that weak. Outwardly, at least. Gilbert ceased thinking it was funny, and berated himself for speaking. Lizzy thought that maybe she was that weak, but desperately wanted to hope otherwise. If she could hope.

Their voices were forced to be normal, as if saying: See, we're funny. We function. We're not different.

Lizzy dressed up, even though she didn't know where they were going. It almost made her feel pretty. Her dress was of a light, gauzy fabric, so she hoped that it was outside, and not somewhere indoors where it would be arctic because of air conditioning.

Gilbert was on time, just about. Lizzy had been waiting on her stoop, in the sun, like a little kid waits outside for nothing in particular.

"Hey!" Gilbert parked his car in front of her house.

"I'm ready." Lizzy said.

As they entered the car, each let the facade drop a little, because they were around each other; they both knew that this wasn't real. They weren't a couple, and this wasn't a date. Even if it could have been, Lizzy would be lying to say that she felt anything towards Gilbert, even friendship. Her mind had constructed the attachment to Gilbert. But maybe one day I'll know what it's like to care about you, even love you.

They drove, past houses mostly. It was the kind of situation that would have been romantic otherwise. In another universe, maybe it was. Maybe neither of them were depressed there.

Eventually they left the ugly area. Lizzy didn't know where they were going, but it was beautiful. She couldn't appreciate it, but she recognized what she would have once thought was a masterpiece of nature.

"Do you think nature is as beautiful as humans?" Gilbert asked.

"I don't know. I mean, humans are beautiful in so many ways. Sometimes people are pretty outside, and then corrupt inside. You can never know every beautiful thing about a person. I guess that's why I like photographing them more."

Gilbert stopped the car. He grasped Lizzy's hand, and pulled her out of the car. "We're here." he announced triumphantly.

It was a field, carpeted in silver dandelion feathers.

"Why are we here?" Lizzy asked.

"We're gonna make a thousand wishes, silly." he said, plucking one of the flowers from the ground. He brought it near his lips, and exhaled softly. The small seeds scattered, and drifted in the air.

"I think there might be more than a thousand wishes here, Gil."

"Even better!" he laughed.

Lizzy bent to collect a bouquet. _I wish I wasn't depressed._ She breathed them into the air. The little delicate wisps lingered, before joining the wind.

Gilbert watched them, until they landed among the grass and other dandelions. He closed his eyes, and then suddenly, snatched another handful of the flowers, handing them to her.

"Do you think anyone will mind that we're planting more of these weeds?" she asked.

"Nope. This is noman's land, here." he said.

 _I wish Gil wasn't depressed._ She blew the dandelions, fiercely. As the seeds exploded off the stem like fireworks, the pale blue sky began to darken with clouds of rain.

Lizzy's arms fell to her sides, and she stared out to the field

Gilbert reached out a hand to pick another orb, and then grasping its thin green stalk, locked eye-contact. "You can't run out of wishes already, Lizzy." he said.

"I didn't run out of wishes." she said, picking her own dandelion.

Gilbert grinned. "We should make a wish at the same time."

 _I wish I could love Gil._

They blew the dandelions.

Lizzy felt something unfamiliar stir in her heart. She laughed.

"What'd you wish?" he asked.

"It's a secret."

Gilbert made a very undignified snort. "You have secrets now?"

"Maybe." she said.

"Well, these dandelions aren't gonna wish themselves."

 _I wish this could last forever._

Lizzy let her fingers skim the tall grass.

 _I wish..._

Raindrops started to fall from the sky. Lizzy touched her hair, to feel its dampness.

"Gil, it's raining."

"Yeah. So?" All at once, the sprinkling was a downpour, drenching them both. Gilbert looked up to the dull, grey sky. "You like rain?"

"I do." Lizzy said.

"Does it make you happy?"

Lizzy felt her heart, beating. The strange feeling grew stronger.

"Yes." she smiled.

"Well, I guess some wishes do come true." he said, also smiling.

The dandelions clung to her legs, sticky with the wet rain. She grabbed one, and blew. None of the petals flew. She blew harder, until the seeds relented, and fell like anchors from the plant.

 _I wish Gil would smile like that always._

In the pelting rain, surrounded by wishes, soaking, depressed, hopelessly in love, Lizzy felt the one thing she had lacked for so long; her lost happiness.

 _I wish we were happy._

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please review.**

 **I wrote this scene a long time before I actually knew what this entire story would be about. It just came to me randomly. The rest of the plot did not come so easily, but at least I sort of knew where they'd end up at some point.**

 **Guest Review**

 **Guest: Oh my goodness, thank you so much! I'm so glad that reading this made you feel better. Reading your sweet review was the highlight of my stressful week.**


	26. Flüstern

_Gilbert wasn't paying attention to the teacher. He was thinking. They were his own thoughts, not any of the knowledge he was supposed to be cramming into his head. They were his own, and no one could see them wander from the topic that the teacher rattled on about. Hopefully they don't ask questions. They were his own thoughts, and now they lingered on death. Specifically, his father's. Part of him, a very small part but still very deep, whispered "Serves him right. He drank his way to hell."_

 _Gilbert hated that part of himself. But he also hated the fact that he was shedding quiet tears in his college science class over a man who had been largely absent in the lives of his children. And now Gilbert would have to somehow arrange to care for Ludwig, who was still in High School._

 _Threatening himself was extremely ineffective. No matter how many times he thought:_ If you don't stop crying now, I will kill you _, it never stopped. Maybe he knew that he wouldn't go through with it, or some hidden instinct existed to contradict his every wish by causing his own body to betray him. Either way, his eyes felt swollen, and if he closed them they would drip salt water down his proud face. There were the years in which Gilbert, while kind, had an ego of spun glass. The people next to him had started to glance past him. But it wasn't High School. At least it wasn't High School. Most people were mature enough to not whisper, gossip, or pass notes regarding him._

 _He hated how Ludwig had received the news so well, while he had to go back to college, and surround himself by people, and prepare for exams, and everything was so stressful anymore._

* * *

Feliciano swung on the swing set. The park was dry, finally. Feliks had been meaning to take Feli out to the park in the city, but after all the rain, his resolve crumbled, and the equipment would have been wet anyway.

Feliks was on the swing set too, because it was fun and having a kid under his supervision gave him the authority ( _excuse_ ) to ride on the swings if he pleased. The sky got closer the higher he pumped, before Feliks remembered that he was supposed to be watching Feli.

No one was attending the playground. That alone honestly made it seem more and more like a bad idea. The idea had been to introduce Feli to other kids, refuel him enough until he bounced back into a normal kid, or something like it. No he just went from place to place in the park, dutifully, like he was at an art museum and obliged to pay mind to each exhibit individually. He kicked on the swing again, mechanically. _Feli had so much energy. Where'd it all go?_

Another part of the idea had been to stay out of the house for Ludwig, who given the circumstances was probably having a mental breakdown about his lack of ability to micromanage everything.

"Feli, do you want to go look for the bathroom with me? I think this park has a bathroom, at least."

Definitely seeming more and more like a bad idea.

Feli nodded. He trotted over through the mulch chips. The restrooms were strategically placed as far away as conveniently possible whilst still remaining in tantalizing sight. Feliks sighed, imagining what it would be like to climb a mountain twice as tall. It didn't make him feel any less sorry for himself.

A couple had entered the park with their children upon their triumphant return. Feliks looked in disgust at the way the parents suddenly shooed their children away ("Stay in the park, we'll be back in a minute"), and stepped out of the park to smoke. Feliks shook his head. _Irresponsible people._ He realized that it was ironic that he should feel parental, or protective.

* * *

The summer suffocated Lizzy, and yet she wanted its warmth to cling at her skin. Some discomfort reminded her to breath, because it meant she was alive.

The water seemed to be carried in the air. She lay on top of quilts that she had left on her bed. The window was open; it had been an attempt to allow a little wind in, but for all the good it had done it was probably just a gateway for more humidity to seep into the house.

On top of her uncertain thoughts, it was still night. She still hadn't fallen asleep, and now it seemed increasingly unlikely that she would. The moist, heated darkness closed around her. She closed her eyes. It meant that she wouldn't have to see the pitch black, with its threatening monsters that it hid within the cloak. She would be haunted by her own mind, but it prevented her hanging nightgown from imitating spectral qualities.

The morning was quiet and undisturbed otherwise. Lizzy assumed it was morning, even though it was not. There lay a bright coldness in the light outside her window, but it only came from fading stars.

She got out of her bed, every part of her body aching for sleep. In her bathroom, she filled a glass in the sink with water. After drinking half of it, she bent her head and poured the rest down her long neck, and over her short hair. It was cold, and seemed to be immediately evaporated by the night air. As she straightened out again, it felt sticky on her shoulders. She took more water in her hands, and rubbed her face.

It did nothing. Lizzy gave up. She couldn't sleep in the heat. She wouldn't be able to. And that was that.

But, settling back into her bed, she still tried. As she turned from side to side, glimpses of dreams evaded her. They were not attached to sleep; repetitive and wearisome images that did not invite sleep, but rather prolonged her struggle towards it.

She thought a lot. In fact, thoughts were constantly shaking through her mind. Usually, she couldn't turn them off, and would be thinking about death during a casual office conversation about the strange weather. Lizzy didn't care about the weather, but she thought a lot about her own death.

Lizzy sometimes wished that she could turn off the constant stream of thoughts; it would be a lot easier to concentrate without them. But her mind was the only thing that could grip hope, even when her heart was shut off. Her heart couldn't feel anything, and her mind was not made to, but her mind was smart. Like an ark, it had taken everything she loved, and stored it. It didn't make anything better, but it salvaged something, spared some damage.

 _If my mind abandons me, then I won't be human anymore. I'm hardly human now. But I will have nothing to hold on to._

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **Sorry this is so horrendously late! And hastily edited. (So please tell me if you catch any mistakes).**

 **Guest Review**

 **Guest: Thank you! (I cried reading HP too). I'm so glad it made you happy, and that you like my story! Again, thank you so much.**


	27. Wilting

Lizzy was photographing again. This time she had swallowed her pride, and was shooting a still life. The flowers that Gilbert had given her, because they wouldn't be preserved otherwise. She wanted to remember them, so that maybe one day she could reclaim some of the happiness associated with them. Maybe not all of her happiness would be lost by the time she escaped. Behind the voice that said: _If you ever do._ Lizzy really wanted to believe that she would get better. She held onto it with her mind, and prayed that the whole ordeal was making her a stronger person.

Lizzy herself was an ounce of draining color in the city, much like her dying flowers. She knew that Gilbert hadn't been thinking about the significance of his present. But it drove a particular shard deeper into her heart, and it was visible from behind her eyes.

* * *

 _Professor Frederick was more of a father figure to Gilbert than his actual flesh and blood had ever been. The teacher had a wry smile, and taught many things in his class besides his assigned subject._

 _His course, World History, was dosed with philosophy, and the strategy of war. His students were enriched with battle techniques, and an understanding of the humanity of warfare, which gave them a rare knowledge of the situations. He taught zealously, like he had actually been there, a sword in hand fending off enemy soldier, or crouching in the belly of a fox hole, ready to shoot out another man's brains for politics and gain of land._

 _The classroom was itself unique. The walls were plastered with old paintings, personal treasures of the teacher. Artifacts of great value were kept a little higher, to avoid damage._

 _Gilbert raised his hand in this class. History wasn't boring anymore. Professor Frederick was a mentor, and Gilbert wished from his seat that the man was his real father. Even in his old age, he had a bright vitality._

 _Unfortunately, though his age did not reflect in his personality, it did in his health. He grew weaker, and weaker._

 _Gilbert hated the substitutes that came in while Professor Frederick was away; they weren't the same. It wasn't their fault. The Professor left assignments for them, and they would work silently all period. This was a feat that spoke of Professor Frederick's impact. If work wasn't collected, and no teacher was present to authoritatively demand order, the whole room would typically erupt into a social event, far too loud for studying or completing work. It was a respect for Professor Frederick that commanded their silence and diligent work ethic even in his absence._

 _But Professor Frederick never got better. He came in one class, even when he was clearly not well enough to be there. "I've been out a lot, and I do apologize for that. It seems that I won't be able to continue teaching you this year, so I'd like to introduce my replacement."_

 _Gilbert felt tears stinging in his eyes. He knew where it was going._

 _"I want to be honest with you children. I know many adults are going to either patronize you or put far too much responsibility and pressure on you. I intend to do neither. I think you deserve the truth, because you have all been wonderful individuals to teach. I am old. This is probably not only the end of my teaching career, but also of my life. I am at peace with this, and I have lived a good life._

" _Please don't feel sorry on my account. I'm sure that many of you have suffered loss before, and if you haven't, count yourself lucky because you will. Cancer and other diseases, sometimes unexplainable accidents, will take people far younger and more deserving of life than I am. Life isn't fair, but I hope you all know that my death shouldn't be sad. Life fading before its time is sad. But I have had my time. Your teacher will be a dedicated friend of mine; Madame Joan Pucelle. She will pick up the coursework for the Seven Years War." He went to the back of the classroom and sat at his desk._

 _They sat the rest of the period quietly, watching Professor Frederick intently as if he would fall over dead suddenly, or simply savoring his existence while it lasted._

 _The next week, all the paintings were gone. It looked so bare, like the teacher was really disappearing. And life seemed willing to go on without him._

 _Miss Pucelle really was an excellent teacher. Gilbert swore that his friend Francis was smitten with her. But she didn't repair the emptiness left by Professor Frederick's absence. It wasn't merely an absence; it was waiting for death._

 _Gilbert got a personal phone call from the Professor the next day._

 _"Gilbert, you're a good student. I just wanted to tell you that I understand what you've tried to say about your...situation at home. I get it, and I'm not just saying that. I hope that you continue working hard, and go on to do great things."_

 _Gilbert needed to yell at something with an expiration date. "But Professor, this is really the only class I'm doing well in! Why do you have to leave? It isn't fair. I need you."_

 _"Hey, I get it. But your real dad loves you more than I could-"_

 _"No! He doesn't. He hasn't spoken, really spoken to me, encouraged me, payed a bit of attention to me, since I was ten. He just drinks. All he does is sit there and expect me to take care of us all. All I wanted was someone to look up to."_

 _Professor Frederick sighed. "This isn't productive. I know that life is hard, but I'm not the only person who would help you. I'm glad I've been able to help you, and listen to your problems. But someone else out there needs you to go on. One of the best, most useful things you can do is help someone else that needs you. And then when you need them too, that's part of love. Your brother needs you, and I think your father does to."_

 _"I don't need him. He's nothing more than a burden." Gilbert protested._

 _"Don't say that. I had a difficult relationship with my father as well, perhaps because underneath it all we were so similar. Or not, but sometimes," The Professor said, "we don't realize how much we love something, how much we needed it, until it's gone. Try to forgive your father."_

 _Gilbert tried to reconcile himself to the words of a dying man._

 _The Professor died soon afterward, at home in his armchair, very peacefully. The funeral was at Saint Jutta's, just a little out of town. Gilbert carpooled with Francis and Antonio, because his dad wasn't there. He preferred it when his father was drunk outside of the house, even if it meant that he came home alcohol soaked. The sheets would have to be washed, and already bore the stains of beer that could never be cleansed from the cloth._

 _A lot of students were there, current freshmen from his classes, some Upperclassmen, alumni of the High School, teachers. The priest talked a lot about how much he had helped to support the parish financially. He additionally made good, powerful points that should have touched the soul, but Gilbert was shut off. Ludwig sat next to him, squirming and itching uncomfortably in his black suit._

 _The music was nowhere near what Gilbert could imagine. The Professor deserved the chorus of Emperors, the polyphony of a requiem Mass composed for one of the great Rulers that Professor Frederick had studied and spoke of so often. A small chapel organ murmured dutifully with simple, minor, mournful chords. It was a quiet, weak sound. Professor Frederick would have given it a 95 for lack of assertion, and a thesis statement._

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **Yes, I just made Frederick the Great a history teacher. I'm not trying to glorify Frederick the Great, or anything. I'm aware that not everything he did was great. But, for the purposes of this story, it's just a name and has nothing to do with the historical Frederick the Great. I just used the name because I'm a huge history nerd.** **'Pucelle' is considered to be the last name of Joan of Arc. And Saint Jutta is the patroness of Prussia. So three history references, yay!**

 **Guest Review**

 **Guest: Thank you! I feel like such a bad person for making poor little Feli go through all this. I'm sorry, Feli.**


	28. Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Michelle hadn't responded to Lizzy's texts, or answered her voice mails, so Lizzy stopped trying to contact her. She forced herself to hold onto: _It'll blow over_. She wasn't willing to lose anything else, especially not friendship. Depression was like a storm, and it was trying to take everything away from Lizzy, like the roof over her head. But Lizzy had weathered greater storms. In her healthy state of mind, undepressed, she would have found the words to tell her friend something convincing. She would have been able to heal the wounds, but now all she could do was watch wordlessly, limply, helplessly, as Michelle tried to turn her back.

It was useless now. All she could rely on was Michelle, and no matter how many times she told herself that she trusted her friend to come back, it certified nothing for her. She was left in doubt, without the willpower to pull herself out. Without the ability to.

It was dreadful. Lizzy didn't want to hate the world, but it was a very tempting option. If she hated it all, she would be justified in leaving it.

* * *

Michelle checked her phone with a heavy heart again. _I know that I'm not doing the right thing. I know what the right thing is. What am I doing?_

The intention was to make Lizzy understand that she couldn't help her. It wasn't working out as planned, and Michelle got the sinking feeling that she was forcing Lizzy into a corner, cutting off her oxygen supply. But it felt too late already. Michelle was so scared, because she held her dear friend's life in her hands, and had no idea of what to do. _I've made a mistake. What was I thinking?_

 _I know I'm doing something harmful- I'm a counselor, I need to do something,_ she rationalized.

Somehow Michelle couldn't analyze what she was doing, and what affect it would have as she usually could when objectively listening to others. This was different.

She picked up her phone, darting through the messages that Lizzy had sent, all to the effect of: _Please talk to me_.

After an internet search, she pasted the link to another counselor's office into her chat box, and sent it, along with a personal note that said: "Liz, I miss you. Please consider what I've said. I don't think I'm helping you in counseling anymore.I just want you to get better." Michelle reread it, and then pressed backspace until only the link remained. Her message was deleted, but coupled with a promise to herself that she would call later.

* * *

In the mornings, after bypassing the initial urge to kill someone, Lizzy could appreciate how nice the sky was where they lived. She looked at it, whether through her bedroom window, or out on her porch.

The clouds, decorated in impossible colors, and filled with the sun's light. Lizzy liked when they were purple; it seemed peaceful. More often they were red, or blue. Always, they hid the sun which intently lit what was left of a dying starry sky. After stars were covered by a lighter blue to match the underlying light blue of a daytime sky, the act of morning made everything a little brighter.

Lizzy remembered when she had felt something, to look at all that beauty.

* * *

"Lizzy, can you come over to our house for dinner, tonight?" Gilbert asked, over the phone.

Lizzy stopped playing with her hair. "Yeah, sure. Do you want me to bring anything?"

"Nope. Just yourself. You haven't seen Feliks and Feli, since they've been in town, have you?"

"Not yet. I guess they'll be there too." She found one strand a bit longer than the others, and got up to get a pair of scissors.

"As far as I know. You should see Feli- he's really subdued, and I don't know if you ever saw him before all this, but he really was a little bundle of joy. Now all his exuberance is gone. No more energy, just like us adults."

"Hmm. Poor kid. I wish I could help him in some other way. He's too young to go through so much loss. It makes me feel like I'm being selfish when I feel sorry for myself."

"Me too. But he's smart, and artistic. He might be a little weak looking, and even acting. But personally I believe that it's a front; to go through all that, he's got to be strong."

 _Am I strong or weak_ , Lizzy wondered.

"Gilbert, do you even have enough chairs in your house to seat five people?"

"We're a little sparse in the furniture department, but Luddy will work something out." There was a little uncertainty in his voice, but Lizzy knew that he was just nervous. Not knowing was hard at any point, but with blinding depression, any stimulation confused her brain. It led to unneeded anxiousness at the wrong moments, or inexplicable anger. She pulled the longer piece of hair down in front of her face until it was straight, and then cut it evenly with the others.

"I should finish cleaning my house now." Lizzy said. "Bye! I'll see you tonight."

"Yep. Bye!"

* * *

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 **Ah, exams** ;_;

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	29. Guest

Lizzy walked to the Beilschmidt's house, because she could. It wasn't far, and the day was so agonizingly dull and uneventful that starting towards their house a little earlier than intended was distracting. It was doing something.

It took her a half hour to get there, because she was dragging her every step. She still managed to be a little early.

Their garden had been blooming since she had been there last. She recognized some of the flowers that Gilbert had picked for her, and some of the others that had been green before.

She climbed over the fence with ease, checking that her clothes hadn't snagged on its posts. An idea had begun forming in her head, sprinkled with a little mischief saved from her childhood, and some boredom borrowed from her current adulthood. She would sneak into their house and announce herself once within, hoping that Ludwig took kindly to intruders.

It was simple to get through the unlocked glass door that opened the back of the house to the back of the yard. She went in. It was their living room, and almost uninhabited, except for Feli, who didn't even look up from the floor to acknowledge her presence.

She seated herself next to him on the couch. Feli continued to ignore her.

"Hey, how have you been Feli? I haven't seen you since I went down to visit." Lizzy realized that these were the wrong words after she had spoken them. They implied Roderich.

But they drew Feli's head up, and he looked into her eyes. "I'm okay. I just need to stay here so that Feliks doesn't get evicted."

The words were said with such drawn conviction, that made them sadder than anything a child should ever have to say. But Lizzy could tell, through the boy's eyes, that he was not okay.

"Do you like it here?" Another 'bad question'. _It would probably be better if I just stopped talking._

"I like it here. The brothers are funny." It was such a monotone, and rehearsed sounding voice.

"They are, aren't they."

"Mhm. I wish I still had a brother." Feli said.

Lizzy had never had siblings; no one to look after, or to look after her. Sometimes, she'd had a similar wish; to have a brother or sister. It didn't matter of what variety. She had forgotten what Roderich had told her; Feli had lost his brother through the foster care system. Somehow she thought that loss must hurt more than not having at all.

Lizzy had the urge to hug him, his shoulders hunching forward, and threatening future spinal curvature. She didn't hug him, because he didn't look like he wanted anybody.

"A little bird tells me that you like to draw and paint. Have you finished any masterpieces lately?" she whispered softly.

He nodded.

"Can I see?"

He nodded again, and slid off the couch into another room. Lizzy looked around. The house was quiet, some of the downstairs lights were off. _Odd. Where are they all?_

Feli returned with a rolled up scroll of white computer paper. He uncurled it in front of her. Lizzy almost made a sound; it would have been a very high and pained sound, if she had made it. The page was punctuated with black and white, all up and down in the pattern of piano keys.

"I like pianos." he said, gravely.

"Me too. That's a very nice drawing." Lizzy said, weakly.

"Thank you. It was the only thing I could give him for a funeral present. But we left before I could take it to him."

Lizzy felt a pain in her chest. "Oh. Okay then." she said, hiding it. "Do you know where everyone is?"

Feli glanced up at the ceiling. "They all went upstairs. For a meeting. It's about me, I know it. Because I can hear them talking from here when it's all quiet, and they're a little louder."

 _Yelling_ , Lizzy realized. She wondered why she had been invited.

"Well, I'm going to go tell them I'm here, so we can eat dinner soon. Sound good?"

She had apparently reached a level of conversation that no longer required verbal communication.

He nodded.

"Okay."

Lizzy found their staircase, and walked up, to the growing sound of voices. She wasn't sure if they were getting more heated, or distincter because she grew closer. Outside the door of a particular room she heard: "-can't stay anymore."

Lizzy knocked, this time. There was no reason to burst in, and the whole event somehow felt darker, more significant, now. She assumed that they intended to discuss something far too emotional for her to comprehend. _Lovely._

They all stopped talking and listening to each other at once. The door opened. Feliks looked out at her with a faint trace of fear in his gaze. "Hi Lizzy, do you want to come in? We can all have this discussion."

All Lizzy wanted to do was run back downstairs and sit with Feli, and stare at the wall, and avoid talking about whatever they wanted to talk about. It was almost guaranteed to be somber, and have different positions that they would have to argue about. Lizzy had lost her fire, the one that had sparked her to be competitive and a little bossy in her younger years. She didn't want to argue, and she didn't want to talk about 'what to do with Feli'.

 _I just want life to go back to normal._ There were too many disconnected thoughts to string together into a coherent idea. She didn't know what to do, so she let her mind and mouth do whatever they wanted. "Do you need me to talk? I don't want to get involved with anything to personal." she spluttered. It sounded a little rude, she thought. Oh well, they would have to put up with that.

"You don't have to, I just wanted you to know what was going on."

"Okay." Lizzy thought that maybe she was supposed to be a little disappointed that Gilbert had only invited her for this, but she didn't. Gilbert smiled from behind Feliks. Ludwig watched the scene sternly, although it wasn't directed towards her particularly.

Feliks practically pulled her through the door, and shut it behind them.

 _No escape now,_ she thought.

"To summarize," Ludwig began, with the air of someone reluctant to repeat what he had just said, "Feliks is concerned about staying here, but he can't impose on Toris for a very long time."

"I think you could. Granted, I don't know him that well, but he wouldn't mind. Especially if it had to do with helping you and Feli." Lizzy said to Feliks. Ludwig sighed at being interrupted. Another sidetrack in the perfectly simple, straight road of a conversation they _could_ be having, but weren't.

"Yeah, but that's the point. It won't bother him, but it'll inconvenience him, and he'll never say anything about it- his apartments so small, and he's working full time. So I'm okay to stay with him for a while, but I don't want to inconvenience anyone. Especially not you guys." said Feliks.

Lizzy wanted to be truthful, and avoid being rude. She couldn't do both. "That seems like a stupid hangup." Her blunt words seemed to send a shock-wave through Feliks.

"Well, anyway, we're here to talk about Feli." Ludwig tried to continue.

"Oh, is that why he's downstairs by himself, not eating dinner. He said he could hear some of what you guys were saying." Lizzy said, feeling suddenly protective: motherly. Angry that she could remember the tears that she had seen Feli crying as she left him behind and walked up the stairs.

"Listen, this is important. Also, how did you get in?" Ludwig asked, a little impatient, a little tired. The discussion had to many different aspect, elements, possibilities, and no focus.

"Your back door was unlocked."

Gilbert looked apologetically at his brother, who said nothing.

"I think you understand what we're talking about then. It really wouldn't have any bearing on you, unless you were going to host them."

Lizzy knew what she was supposed to say and do. She didn't feel compassionate, and so ignored his hidden suggestion.

"There's not really much else that we can discuss together. We've made it clear that you are free to stay here Feliks. So, how about we go eat dinner." Gilbert saved Lizzy. She was so glad at not having to say anything.

"Thank you." she mouthed as Feliks and Ludwig trickled in front of them, and out the door.

* * *

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	30. Party

Feli was on the floor in the middle of the living room. He had a blank page in front of him, and held a crayon as if he was going to color something. As if, because he was motionless. Lizzy mused that it could have been an act. Or an Alibi.

"Hey, were gonna eat dinner now Feli. Wash your hands." Feliks called, as he took a seat around the small table.

Feli disappeared into the kitchen.

"You're like a mom now, I guess." Lizzy joked lightly, from next to Feliks.

"Dad." he corrected, his face drawn into a scowl that turned into a smile. The smile turned into a sad, wistful look. "And not for much longer. My time's almost up. He needs to go back."

Lizzy sighed, as if she was losing her own almost-child. As if she could feel sad about anything. No empathy, not for anyone. It had no roots in personal feelings.

She didn't know what to expect for dinner. Gilbert carried a tin-foil covered plate into the room, and set it on the table. Ludwig followed him out with something else in a transparent, plastic container, its contents obscured by the steam clinging to the insides.

Gilbert sat at the head; it was traditional. He used to care where he sit. It used to be important that he was seated at the head of the table, because he was the oldest and the strongest and the best. Not anymore. Now it was a ceremony; he sat there because it was his seat, not for his pride.

Feli came in at the end of the procession. He took his seat quietly, on the other side of Feliks.

Gilbert nodded at Feliks, who breathed in, and exhaled a prayer. Lizzy said "Amen" at the end. It was the only part she knew.

Feliks broke his hand out of their prayerful position; unthreading his fingers, and drumming them lightly on the table, as everyone else watched Gilbert, who still had his eyes closed, his hands folded, and lips tightly clenched.

When he reopened his eyes, they had all looked back down at the table. Gilbert flushed a little. Feliks took Feli's plate, and filled it with green beans (the mysterious contents of the clouded container), and some form of meat from the other.

Lizzy wasn't hungry, but she had been told that depression decreased appetite, and so forced herself to take half a plate of vegetables.

"Are you a vegetarian?" Gilbert asked her from across the table.

"No. I don't trust your meat. It looks like roadkill."

Ludwig winced a little, partially because he had cooked it, and partially because he was eating it.

Feliks laughed, out loud and clear; it was very pretty, and even more so because it seemed to have risen deep from underneath so much pain to arrive out of his mouth.

"So, the other day I was driving along, right? And I see this lady in her car. I had to do a double take because she was brushing her teeth, in her car. One hand driving, the other brushing her teeth. And I was just thinking; where is she going to spit that when she's done? It was hilarious." He shared a looked with Feli, who must have been with him at the time, as if they were sharing a secret. Feli smiled just a bit, but it was enough. And Lizzy could see the game that Feliks was playing.

"You're like a magnet for strangeness." She said, in order to fill the silence.

"Hmm, really? That's probably why I'm stuck being friends with you."

Gilbert's eyes went back and forth between the two, observantly. He was seeing a side to Lizzy that seemed to be have been preserved and was now being projected.

Ludwig brought a napkin up to his mouth. Underneath it, he was smiling too. If Lizzy could be happy, even a little while depressed than so could Gilbert. It was all the hope he needed.

They ate, and Gilbert participated in a conversation with Lizzy and Feliks. The goal seemed to be telling outrageous stories about strangers, things they had seen, until it turned to recounts of personal embarrassment.

Ludwig just supervised them, occasionally reminding Gilbert that some stories were probably best left untold, especially in Feli's presence. While Ludwig was scrutinizing the adults, Feli watched Ludwig with a reverent respect contorted on his face. Ludwig had the coldest eyes he had ever seen. Lizzy's were a light green, and had forced happiness injected into them. Gilbert's were a rusty, reddish-brown color, and Feliks had cat-like shaped eyes. He considered Ludwig again.

When everyone's plates were empty, and most of the food eaten, Gilbert rose to clear dishes, and automatically Ludwig followed, collecting the food storage containers, and bringing them into the kitchen. Feliks seemed to helplessly flounder in his seat for a while, feeling like he should have been doing something, and yet not knowing what. He settled on taking out the utensils and dirtied napkins. Lizzy thought that they seemed to have the whole thing taken care of, but stacked water glasses inside each other like nesting dolls, in order to feel helpful.

The kitchen was not meant for four grown adults; even half an adult, in Feliks' case. Lizzy struggled to find enough room, and reach the sink. "The dishwasher's dirty, so you can load them." Ludwig instructed her. Gilbert and Feliks slipped out of the room.

"Thanks." she muttered, for her own benefit, because he wouldn't have been able to hear it. She pulled open the dishwasher, and wedged the cups along the side, in the upper rack.

Ludwig fidgeted, and then gave an audible sigh to the air. "Large glasses actually go on the bottom rack. Lining the back part corner in square formation, as long as there aren't too many plates. Then we'd move them to-"

Lizzy said, "This is all very interesting and too complicated.'

"Never mind. I'll do it."

"Okay. Thanks." Lizzy replied, with relief. She left to find Feliks and Gilbert, who had migrated to the living room, and presumably taken Feli with them, as he was continuing his technique of not actually drawing, but holding a pencil above the piece of paper.

She seated herself next to Gilbert on the couch, but gave him ample room; she was closer to the lamp on a nearby table than him. "Thank you for inviting me over. I actually feel like an adult, you know. Eating dinner at someone else's house. It's all very grown-up."

"Haha, don't mention it. All I ended up doing was heating up some green beans in the microwave. You're the one who had to drive here." Gilbert said.

"I actually walked over." She scanned the sky through the window; it was still light. "But that means I need to start walking back soon, before it gets dark outside."

Feliks looked at his watch, and then at Feli, who still hadn't drawn anything, as if he was waiting for inspiration.

He whispered something about a near approaching bedtime to the boy, who merely nodded. Without any further encouragement, Feli meandered into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

As soon as he had left the room, Feliks said "I'm going to rent the apartment across from Toris. That way we can be close if I need someone to watch Feli, and also have our own space. Coming here was kind of just running away from my problems." No one mentioned that everything he did was postponing the inevitable. But Feliks was holding off on giving Feli back. His excuse was that it would hurt Feli; which was true to an extent. But even more so, it was for his own selfish desires. He didn't want to break his own heart. It already hurt too much. He didn't like letting go of things.

"We'll miss you. Don't feel like we're pressuring you or anything. But I'm glad that you've come to a decision." Ludwig said, as he came into the living room.

"Aww, thanks. I think we'll miss you guys too."

"I should go now." Lizzy said abruptly. "It was very nice." She chose her words carefully, which proved difficult with no emotional basis. 'Nice' seemed discreet and non-descriptive enough. She wasn't willing to commit to anything more. "Thank you! It was nice to see you all!" She winced at using the word 'nice' again, but they probably hadn't noticed. Lizzy got up and directed her forward momentum towards the front door.

"Wait." Gilbert followed her. She took her hand from the door knob. He stood looking like he wanted to say something, but the words weren't coming.

"Goodnight, Gilbert." She said, before turning and making her farewell more public. "Goodnight, everyone!"

Gilbert found the words just as she had reopened the door. "Thank you." he said so sincerely, that Lizzy felt he was referring to something that he had thought about with gratitude for a long time, perhaps since they had first met.

"You're welcome."

She walked out, and didn't stop walking, as she passed through the suburb, like she had blinders on. She walked right past the houses like they were paintings; not real. She walked with an urgency that she didn't understand. It stirred her heart into a brisker gallop, and whipped the air against her face, making up for the lack of wind.

As she saw her own house, it was still light, but almost dark. She cleared her doorway before the moon revealed itself, as if it had been her personal goal from the start.

* * *

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	31. Abandon

Michelle pulled on her dark, thick curls. She noted that her waiting room was empty, and wished that she had a window in her office. The room remained in a warm, mellow but artificial light, while it was a brightly sunny outside. She hated being stuck indoors all day.

Her hands knew what they were doing before she did; they had the beginnings Lizzy's phone number typed in. Michelle stopped to think about what she could say. The box grew impatient, and closed before she could finish dialing. Michelle didn't have enough energy to try again.

Michelle had made up for her lack of natural sunlight by covering the walls of her room in photographs of beaches, and people she loved smiling. There wasn't enough blue though, she thought. Her dress of light ocean teal made up for it as best it could.

She heard a faint knocking, and looked over to the open door. "Oh sweetie, what are you doing here?" she said.

"Dropping in. I don't work today." He was average; short blond hair, and glasses. She grimaced at the bright red plaid that had suddenly invaded her vision.

"I might not have much time until someone comes in." she warned.

"I'll wait here until you do."

"Mattie, you don't need to-"

He sat down across from her, ending all negotiations. "How's your day been so far, Chelles?"

She smiled. "Pretty slow. You?"

"Same. I got up thinking that I had work, but then I looked at the calendar. Good thing too. I'd have driven and wasted time that I could have been spending with you."

Michelle rolled her brown eyes. "You can stay until I get someone in the waiting room."

"Okay." He dropped his shoulders into a relaxed slope.

Michelle felt the weight of her phone in her right hand again. "Matt, I'd kind of like some advice."

"Umm, okay. What's wrong?" He squirmed a little.

"Well, I have a friend. We've been pretty close since we met through counseling. I want to help her, but I'm worried that I'm kind of impaired when it comes to counseling her. Like, my emotional attachment is blinding me, and I can't help her as well. Maybe I'm just overthinking it."

"Can't you just explain that to her? She'll understand." Matthew soothed.

"No. I suggested that she try another counselor, but I've got the feeling that she's just stopped going to her appointments in general. And now I can't seem to get in contact with her."

Matthew removed his glasses, and directed his look of deep concentration into Michelle's eyes. "Do you think she felt hurt? And do you know if she goes to psychology appointments. I mean, if you know her insurance and what psychologist she's seeing, you could check to see when her last appointment was. Without seeming like stalking. But you're concerned, and that's fair. You don't think anything bad could happen?"

"I know who her psychologist is, and he said she hasn't been since last month. I'm really worried, because I'd still have to transfer the information and progress to another counselor if she got one, which means she isn't looking into it. She won't be able to get on medication if she doesn't go somewhere."

Matthew fiddled with the thin wire of his glasses, before replacing them on the bridge of his nose. "There's not much you can do, besides trying to contact her."

"I'll try calling her again today." Michelle said. She saw someone with a magazine out of the corner of her eye, as she glanced towards the waiting room. "You're going to have to go now. Thanks so much."

Matthew nodded. "It was nice to talk to you."

"Yes it was." she said, hurriedly, "I love you, I'll see you. Bye!" she practically pushed him out of the door.

Matthew walked out of the building thinking over the words that had accidentally slipped out of Michelle's mouth: _I love you._

* * *

Feliks and Feli left the Beilschmidt's without warning. Feliks woke Feli up carefully in the morning, and after they were both dressed and packed, quietly. They slipped out the door. The morning sky was brilliantly disfigured by clouds of unnatural, almost chemical colors. They were too beautiful to adorn such an ugly town.

Feliks had a heart-stabbing thought that sneaking out deprived Feli of a last chance to say goodbye to the Beilschmidts. It was too late, they were already on a highway, and Feli was sleeping on the window. He considered his own grumbling stomach, and then the way Feli's head lolled wearily onto the glass. He kept driving past the gas station. _I can eat later._

Hours later, Feli was awake, and the car needed gas. Feliks stopped for gas and disgusting, cheap food, and as Ludwig inspected all the empty rooms in his house, he received a short explanatory text.

 _We left at six. Didn't want to wake you up. Thanks._

 _-Feliks_

Feli came out of the gas station bathroom, and joined Feliks in the store. He checked his phone. Ludwig had responded.

 _Okay. Have a safe drive back._

Feliks watched Feli stand still as he wrote back: _Yup. Halfway there._ Out the gas station window, the view partially obscured by racks and tall stacked boxes of merchandise, a city brewed on the horizon in the skyline. If it had been night, the view would have been more impressive; the little twinkling stars of burning electrical energy from so many people glowing like a Christmas Tree. In daylight, it was an ashen outline, in all appearances a colorless mountain in the distance.

* * *

Lizzy went through the days of the week like a machine. Her routine was the same, and she had even forced herself to do photography. It was different because she didn't understand how people were feeling; her empathy another lost cause.

She stored the pictures on her laptop, but soon wondered what they were doing besides taking up space. The realization that her hobby was unproductive did nothing to encourage its continuation. But she did, because it had become part of what she did, and what she did not question.

Over a week she had taken some photos that even she could recognize as beautiful despite feeling nothing about them, and contemplated her death. The possibilities were numerous, and frighteningly comforting.

But the world had lost its light, in her eyes, and never seemed so lonely.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, and please review!**

 **Okay, so early update because I'm not going be able to post tomorrow. The next update will be on July 10th.**

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	32. Poison Summer

**Warning: Some content in this chapter may be triggering.**

* * *

Lizzy opened her front door, and looked out at the street. It was darkening, sunlight sliding down further and further. She wanted to sit out on the porch, so she clenched the black metal of her twisted railing, and rested on the concrete. Her hands brushed the asphalt softly, her fingertips could identify individual particles of stone. People walked past her, and it could have been a normal evening. She closed her eyes and inhaled. There it was again, undisturbed and ready to break; peace. This attributed to the calm that Lizzy felt as she closed the door to the outside world. Her house had been dyed a deep orange in the dying sunset, that streamed through her small windows. Lizzy stopped the light from hitting the stairs with her face. There, she knew, it was coming to a close. She would have to relinquish the peace she had. It left her soul violently, taking the calm with it. As the sun slowly bled away, and her house became grey, Lizzy knew that terror would settle on her. Her heart pulsed rapidly, expectantly. She breathed again, with more difficulty.

She faltered into her kitchen, making hasty plans in her mind. _Aspirin_.

Her hands shook with fear as she opened her cabinet. A small fragment of her mind said: _What are you doing?_ Maybe this was the 'child mind' Michelle had told her about. Too innocent to understand what was happening, or too scared to believe, and powerless to stop anything.

 _I'm making it all better,_ Lizzy explained mentally.

She twisted the cap off, and counted as little, white, round pills spilled out into her open, waiting palm. _One, two, three, half the bottle._

Lizzy recapped the bottle, and replaced it within her cabinet. Part of her screamed to stop, but she couldn't hear it. She couldn't _feel_ anything. _I'm going to sleep. I'm finally going to sleep_.

With one unhindered hand, she filled a glass half empty with water. She lifted the medicine-laden hand to her mouth, and consumed. The pills filled her mouth with bitterness. She brought the water cup to her lips, drank, and swallowed. As the pills reached her throat, she felt a choking sensation, before gulping to force them all down.

 _Goodbye_. Lizzy had thought that was it. She had made her decision, and it was over. She had not anticipated the agonizing wait for death.

And so she stood, waiting. Eventually, a wave of nausea hit, and her body swayed. Her mouth burned with saliva, and her head fluctuated between a state of lightheadedness and a deep, sinking feeling in her mind. It was both a physical and mental sensation, and one the brought her down to her knees, against the tiled floor.

Suddenly, Lizzy was drowning. There was pain, and it was all inside her, searing everything. An agony of both her mind and body.

She breathed out foam from her mouth. The poison froth she spat was acrid. She dropped the glass of water from her hand, and couldn't even hear it shatter, because her heart was so loud in her ears. _This isn't supposed to hurt. I chose to go out painlessly, because I'm a coward_. But something in her stomach hurt. Pain was okay, as long as she didn't have to suffer it everyday. As long as she was gone before anyone could save her. A little pain could save her from the lifetime of it that she seemed to be reaching for.

 _If I were a star, I would go out with an explosion, pulling on the universe's corners. If I were a candle, I would extinguish and no one would know the difference unless it was in a very dark room. My life has become very dark, but I am alone, and so no one will miss my light. But I am just Lizzy, and my light was never bright to begin with. I lived, I was a lit flame, but now I have reached the end, and it will be my end. Even Gilbert can't love me. He won't be cruel or heartless to go on not missing me after my death. I felt nothing when Roderich died, and maybe he will move on to something better than I did._ _I could never win, could I?_ Hysteria had cut into Lizzy's soul _. I couldn't even survive, and now I'm going to die._

All alone, Lizzy reached out. She was crying, delirious tears coming out of her eyes as if they had been waiting. And she was stuck with the pounding realization: _I can cry!_ She sobbed.

It was as if a barrier had been removed, and anything that Lizzy hadn't felt was suddenly present. All her emotions seemed to have been in a conference, and were now spilling out. Tides of joy broke on her face, and she smiled. She laughed, the whole sound getting caught in her throat. She thought of Roderich, and all the sadness she had bypassed caught up with her.

For a second she forgot why she was on the floor, as the emotional pain had overwhelmed even her physical pains. But with a terrible certainty, and recoil, Lizzy knew that she was going to die, just as she had begun to live again.

With a last surge of energy, she pulled her cellphone out.

 _i took too many pills...please help me,_ she typed with all her strength, to Gilbert.

She hoped that the last action before she passed out was to send it.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, and please review.**

 **I'm back :). Also, I'm really sorry for this chapter ;_;**

 **Suicide is such a terrible, serious issue. I struggle with feeling suicidal. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. I understand. It will be okay. You aren't alone.**

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 **Guest: Thank you! I hope so too. My poor baby. :'(**

* * *

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 **Call 1-800-273-8255**


	33. Romeo und Juliet

Gilbert picked up his phone, and was immediately knocked over. There, staring him straight in the face was an impossibility; Lizzy was dying.

 _No._ His mind almost refused to believe it all together. He didn't want to be the hero, and he was so scared that he would fail.

"Luddy, I'm borrowing your car! Give me the keys!" he yelled, without thought. His brother rushed into the room.

"What? What did you say?"

"I need to borrow your car." Gilbert put on his shoes, his hands trembling too much to allow him to knot the laces so he left them to hang loosely, and hoped that he wouldn't trip.

"Why?"

"I need it. Lizzy needs to get to the hospital. Call 911 for her. I'm going over now to see if I can get her there. Give me the keys! Where are the keys?"

Ludwig dropped them into his brother's outstretched hand, wordlessly.

"Thanks." Gilbert said, shooting out of the house like a bullet.

He entered the dark night like an intruder, and all his movements were done too fast. He jerkily pulled the car door open, and started the ignition. Then he remembered to buckle his seat belt.

He drove into the street, all the other cars like insects. All he could focus on was the thought of Lizzy, dying. It was impossible. _Was it me? Did I make her do this?_

It was too similar to Roderich's death. Another connection. _Will everyone I love die? Why is it always my fault?_

The road in front of him was endless, like a desert. His headlights formed shadows in the weeds along the roadside. The night stretched similarly above him. None of this mattered, as long as he got there in time.

Her house had never seemed so far away. It was within walking distance. But now it might as well have been an entire ocean apart.

Gilbert's mind was blessedly quiet, clearly formulating some way to blame it on himself even more, or to provoke more fear of her dying, but his blind and swift (and desperate) mission silenced them all.

He drove until he could see the shining light: a border of grass around her house, and those ugly, cement steps, with the rickety metal railing. He heaved, not quite in relief, but at least in exhaustion.

He charged from his car to her front door so fast that there might have been no space between the two points. Inside her foyer, the entire house revealed itself to be uncomfortably silent. _Like death._

Gilbert was prepared to search the entire house to find her. _If Luddy called the hospital, how long would it take? Too long. I can make it, if I find her in time._

She was in the kitchen. Gilbert had not been prepared for the sight of her body, strewn out on the floor. Her mouth had bubbled froth around it, tinted slightly with a red that was blood, and he could see evidence of a broken glass beside her head.

He blinked tears away, terror filling up every inch of his mind. People worked so hard for things they cared about, and if they failed, it devastated them. Gilbert was already devastated; he did not expect to save Lizzy. _I wish I could have talked to her one more time. Why didn't she get better in the end?_

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, and please review.**

 **Sorry the chapter's so short. I couldn't fit anything else without ruining the suspense.**

 **So, once again, I'm going to be out of state visiting relatives. I don't know when the next update will be. :(**

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	34. Fish Bowl

_Lizzy thought she was drowning. She was actually afraid of opening her eyes, because she was surrounded by water outside; outside, and inside her eyes and mouth. And she didn't want to know what she would see._

 _She choked, and coughed. Her eyes opened, and she realized that she was alone. Even depression couldn't follow her here. Looking up, she was was kneeling and the water's surface was right there, close enough to break above with her fingers. But she couldn't stand, or even move her head._

I'm dead, here and in the real world. No matter what I do, I can't go back. I won't wake up.

 _The water around her consumed the tears she shed. She breathed in the water, the inhale filling her lungs. The bubbles she exhaled reached the surface, while she could not._

Am I in heaven? Or is this hell?

 _The water was cold. She hadn't noticed at first, but now her body's temperature was lowering, until her skin shivered._

 _It was raining, above the water. Little stipples of water made imprints on the membrane._

 _Lizzy felt the spinning sensation again, as if her head was swimming._

I just wanted to die. Why is it worse here? Is this eternity?

 _She seemed to be in a shallow interpretation of the ocean, because while her legs rested on something solid, beneath her was briny green water. She could see the bottom though. It was just as unreachable as the top. She wished she could die again. She was suspended between her first attempt at death, no matter how much she felt that she was about to die, she couldn't._

I want to die here, so that I can move on or wake up. If I wake up, I will live my life. If I drown here, I hope that it happens soon.

* * *

They made their way through dark alleys, the bricks in the building walls were like prison blocks. The car windows fogged up, and Gilbert grasped around for something to clear it with. He found a tissue, which ripped as he smeared it across the windshield.

He shouldn't have been driving that fast, and the consequence was swerving to avoid a trashcan in the alley. Lizzy was still and unconscious in the passenger seat.

 _How long does she have left?_

His thoughts throbbed faster than his mileage.

 _How many pills did she swallow?_

And then the agonizing question: _Why?_

While his thoughts throbbed, _You know why,_ they protested indignantly. _I thought I was there for her. I thought we could get out alive, together._

Lizzy had given up, and now she was dying.

It was 20 minutes to the hospital, and he had decided that 911 wouldn't be as fast.

For once, even more than usual, he disregarded all rules and sped down the highway as soon as he reached it, allowing his fear and adrenaline to drive.

* * *

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	35. Dying Flowers

Gilbert carried Lizzy into the hospital, after parking messily, and probably in the wrong spot. People rushed towards him as he got through the doors. Clearly, he was a sight. Gilbert didn't get to see Lizzy after that. Someone had gotten a stretcher, and was wheeling her away, farther and farther out of reach. He didn't have the motivation to protest. They were most likely doing the right thing. He suddenly felt that every part of him was exhausted. He wanted to stay awake. He considered using up any remaining energy to sprint after the cart, but he didn't have any. It was a lost cause. He managed to make it to a couch in the lobby before passing out.

He hazily knew that someone would notice. Someone did. They tapped him on the shoulder. His flight from sleep was not gentle: he bolted up, and felt the familiar, too-fast beat of his heart. He panted to catch his breath.

 _Lizzy...where am I? Was that a nightmare?_

"Sir, do you need help? You've been asleep for hours here."

"Umm..." That was all Gilbert could put together. His brain took a second to wake up, and then activated speaking abilities. "I'll have to go find a hotel." he muttered, not really caring if the hospital employee understood him.

Gilbert had forgotten why he was in a hospital.

 _Lizzy. I'm here because of her._ He didn't think too hard about it. He knew that a little too much overthinking could kill both of them.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Gilbert said thickly through a month of restless nights, accumulated.

He stumbled through the glass revolving door, hazily wondering if he would be decapitated, because it seemed to demand such a fast pace, and he was so tired.

He drove to a motel. It was cheap, but he didn't care so long as he would be allowed to sleep undisturbed until he was strengthened enough to walk, and safely past the possibility of killing himself. Unconscious, he couldn't harm himself. It was merely an added benefit, but Gilbert was desperate to postpone the soul searching that needed to happen. Anytime, just after Lizzy was okay. She had to be okay.

* * *

Lizzy woke up seeing white. The ceiling was white, but her eyes were pointed towards the mountainous covers that lay on top of her immobile legs. It was hot, but she couldn't have moved an inch of her body if she had wanted to. She did want to shrug the sweltering blankets off, but not as much as she wanted to scream at something. Anything. She needed to demand what was going on. Nothing made sense, and she couldn't move her head enough to see where she was. Her arm moved enough to shoot pain up her arm; there was an IV still in it. _Am I in a hospital? Why?_

Lizzy fell back asleep, since nothing made sense. In her dream, she discovered what reality had forgotten, and heaved for air, wishing to wake up again.

* * *

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	36. Grave

It had been fairly easy for Gilbert to get into the hospital with Lizzy, but getting back in to see her proved more difficult. No matter how many times he insisted that all he wanted to do was see her, they continued to stress that her condition was too unstable; she was in ICU.

 _Not even to just see her, maybe one more time._

"Can I at least know how she's doing?" He asked.

"She's unstable. We'll call you if anything changes." The detached voice over the phone said, before hanging up.

Gilbert looked back at his wall. It was ugly, and the whole place smelled like cigarette smoke, and then air freshener subsequently sprayed around the room to hide the smell of smoke. It only succeed in combining the two scents into one more putrid, and still hanging thickly present in the air. Gilbert lowered his expectations, but it didn't help. He blamed his inability to sleep on the poor mattress, but it had more to do with the massive clot of thoughts that was sitting in his head.

He hadn't thought much about what Lizzy had looked like when he had found her, but now he could see it all again, and choked on the painful memories, bleeding and grasping them like the broken glass on her floor, and the tears on her face, the fact that _she must have put the pills back into the cabinet_ because he hadn't seen them on the counter or ground. He shuddered, and pulled the blankets up, closing his eyes. _Lizzy broadened on the floor, her hair falling like rays of the sun around her still head._

He opened his eyes to escape the horrible image, even if it meant staring at the burnt orange wall.

 _This whole place is a purgatory._ He thought that he would suffocate on his thoughts, if not the air. _Please._ It was too late to stop tears from wetting the pillow.

It was too early to feel guilt, like he hadn't saved her life. But he hadn't, because whether she recovered or note, she had still attempted suicide. _Why? She didn't tell me it would kill her_. It evidenced his failure as a friend.

He positioned his phone beside his bed and turned the volume up, in case the hospital called.

Gilbert had to remind himself that it was still summer. Even if it seemed like an impossibly long summer, and the motel had freezing air-conditioning pumping through the room. He could remember sweating in his backyard, weeding his garden, wishing that he was inside with a fan. Summer had a different meaning now. It meant heat, and the way tears got sticky on your cheeks after a few minutes of soaking on them. It meant that the sidewalk was too hot to go out on barefoot. And wearing flip-flops. More than anything, summer was supposed to be good. But it didn't feel like summer, from where Gilbert lay, a mildewing yellow ceiling above him, instead of a star studded sky, or even scorching sunlight. Summer didn't touch Gilbert, where the whole room was dark, and his friend might be dying. As a whole the summer had started out promisingly, and then been cut down like the harvest by his own mentality.

The phone rang. He picked it up so fast that it had probably broken a record, somewhere. "Hello, this is Gilbert Beilschmidt." he rasped.

"Elizaveta Hedevary is in a coma. She isn't currently stable enough for visitors, but we will call you if anything changes. Thank you." said a hospital employee.

Each word was like a stab-wound.

Nothing changed, like the summer of immobile seasons.

* * *

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	37. Dreamcatcher

Lizzy had the recurring dream that she was in a hospital. Sometimes unfamiliar faced nurses would come, soundlessly checking things, or poking her arm with needles. But when she awoke, she was in the water again. A nightmare that was indistinguishable from the real world, and made her head spin until she didn't know where she was, be it dream or actuality. Nothing made sense, no matter what her eyes beheld; the white clothing of hospital employees, or over a million billion gallons of ocean water.

A doctor came over, and looked over her grimly. Lizzy didn't know whether her eyes were open or closed; suddenly the only thing that mattered was that her soul felt like it was exploding. She needed to move, and her limbs were all unresponsive, like they belonged to someone else. She was a limp puppet, with no one to pull the strings. The doctor said something out loud that she couldn't hear. Who was he talking to? _Oh._ It was funny, because Lizzy knew she couldn't speak before she tried to say "I can't hear you." Her lips twitched with unspoken words. The doctor shook his head, and left. She wanted to call out to him. She had so many questions. The first being: _Is this real, or am I drowning somewhere?_

She wanted to forget why her dreams would be an endless cycle of death and recovery. It was her own fault, of course. She could still taste poison in her mouth, though the bitterness had faded.

 _I killed myself. Why would I do that? Did I know that I would be thrown into fevered dreams for the rest of my life. How long will the rest of my life even be?_

She thought of people that were probably crying, and wondered if others cared. Gilbert would care, wouldn't he? Michelle would cry out of guilt, perhaps. And Feliks - something burned in her heart - would be experiencing the second suicide of the summer that left her in tears.

She wasn't quite regretful about having ended her life; only that it hadn't been successful enough to grant her repose.

No matter where she was, her body was paralyzed; she'd had no control in her life, and now she had even lost it over her body.

 _It isn't fair_. She felt tears forming hotly in her eyes. Her next view was of the blue ocean. The water washed away all traces of crying.

* * *

Gilbert leaned over the sink in his bathroom, drinking water from his cupped, shaking hands. The lights were out, it was the middle of the night, and sleep evaded him. His mind felt like it would split open if he couldn't close his eyes and rest. But he couldn't. If his legs were outside the blankets, it was too cold, and underneath it was stiflingly hot.

He stood up, releasing a handful of water into the sink, and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He grabbed a bar of soap, and washed his hands because they felt so dirty.

He wanted to do something and nothing all at once, like he was crazy. Did Feliks know?

 _Ludwig's probably told everyone._

He looked at his reflection, and it looked right back, piercing into his soul. He stared at it for a long time, in fascination, as if it was someone else. When he didn't experience immediate disgust at his own image, he knew that something was different.

Everything that he should have been doing made him feel desperate, and all that he couldn't do added helplessness. It was only the thought of Ludwig, somewhere worrying about him, that kept him momentarily rational.

Waves of guilt swelled, and broke out of his eyes. _Why am I so weak?_ It was always a constant circle of guilt; if he cried then he was weak, if he didn't than he was heartless to all the people he had hurt. No matter what, he ended up hurting people, or ruining everything he touched.

He didn't want to think about Lizzy anymore. She had been so nice, so close to being through with depression before him. _I took her down with me as I fell, didn't I?_ And all the burden he had put on Ludwig, and all the responsibility that he couldn't shoulder.

Gilbert locked himself in the bathroom. He knew that he wouldn't have the energy to unlock it again until morning. With any luck, he might fall asleep, and into an alternate place. It might be better, or it might be worse. But it would be safer, a protection from himself.

He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't survive, for the sakes' of those who for some reason cared about him. It would be easier if people stopped caring about him, and he could disappear cleanly from the face of the earth.

Nothing was so simple. But if for even a second he believed that no one would miss him, he was at extreme risk, and the cause was his mind. He felt a stab in his heart at the thought that Lizzy must have lost sight of those who were missing her, because she was so kind, and would never want to hurt anyone but herself.

He heard the sound of someone else's shower, from the room over. It was a constant, lulling noise. Gilbert slumped over, pulling a towel from the shelf onto the ground, and resting his head on it. _I will fall asleep,_ he promised himself. And for once it was a promise well kept. He woke up in the morning, almost kissing the ground in gratefulness at having slept through the night without dreams of any kind.

He looked at his attire. There was nothing to change into; his wrinkled set of floor-dirty day-old clothing would have to suffice. He ran a hand through his hair, and picked out a few pieces of whatever-that-stuff-was from out of his hair. It was matted, and lined with an oily grease.

There was nothing else to do, so he showered. It amended his offending hair, and odorous, disgruntled appearance slightly. After liberally applying body wash (a desperate attempt to substitute for non-existent deodorant), and rinsing with the hope that he was half-presentable, he put the dirty clothes back on.

 _Ugh, they smell._ His body protested feebly, particularly his nose.

The money in his pant's pocket was slightly damp, having caught some spurts of water from the unhelpful shower curtain, and accumulated to about enough for food, or enough gas to get him to the hospital. There was no way he could pay for another night at the motel, but he could sleep in his car in the hospital parking lot, probably. _Choices, choices._ It was possible that none of these options existed. He had a sinking suspicion that Feliciano had switched out the rest his real cash for play money

 _Now would be a good time to have a credit card, or my younger-brother-with-money on hand_

* * *

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	38. Deadman's Float

There was someone else, out in that blue abyss. Lizzy recognized the dark, shadowy figure in the distance as a human. It was the first life-form in this desolate reality. She almost missed the constant stream of medical professionals; at least they were something reminiscently recognizable, even if they brought little needles, and looked over her with worried, pitying expressions.

The pain in her stomach had become so constant that she could almost ignore it. It reminded her of life; she had wished that pain would tell her that she was alive, and now plagued with it constantly, she still couldn't tell. So it hadn't solved anything. But it was becoming mildly irritating.

Her arms stung a little when she tried to pluck them away from the machinery that she couldn't turn her head enough to see, but knew was there.

If anything, it was a realistic dream, if it was a dream. Either that, or a form of punishment in the afterlife. When she struggled, nurses would rush over, with concern on their faces. It was amusing, but not enough to provoke a smile out of Lizzy. Usually, she would fall limp as they checked all her vitals, and reattached anything that had come out of her outstretched arms, like barbing a bird's wings with detached feathers. It was all the exertion she could muster, before plunging back into the other world.

She still couldn't move towards whoever was out in the water, leagues away. But she could see it, as if the person was a lighted candle. She didn't need to speak words, not that she could. Knowing that she wasn't alone was both comforting and frustrating, because with this incentive she struggled, only to be more embraced by the cold water. She had stopped trying to reach the surface; it seemed hopeless. She threw her whole body in the direction of the shape. Her arm stung.

 _Roderich-_

He floated like her, arms adrift. His eyes were closed too, behind his heavy glasses that he was never seen without. She reached out towards him, and now he was so close. Her hand brushed his face. She plucked it back instantly, in horror.

He was cold. Lifeless. Lizzy remembered the painful truth. _Roderich is dead. I knew it. Miracles aren't real here. Even in a dream._

Her heart hammered. Panic wrote itself in her eyes.

 _Will this be me? Help. Help. I need to escape. I CAN'T BREATHE! Am I dying slowly? After my prolonged, cold departure, will my body be preserved by the sea: a shipwreck? Can someone here me?_

The water devoured her screams again. When she opened her eyes again, Roderich had sunk out of sight, to the bottom of the ocean.

* * *

Feli was playing on the floor of Toris's living room. Toris wasn't there, and neither was Feliks; they were in the other room, crying as silently as they could over a computer screen. He felt like they weren't going to tell him what it was about.

Eventually they emerged, having made some attempts at concealing their grief. But Feli could see it in their eyes, both physically and from the sadness abiding there. He didn't think that Feliks should have to cry so much; it wasn't fair, to have to cry so much.

"Hey, Feli. I think that we should talk about something." Feliks said, hiding something besides sadness.

Those were the words that Feli had expected to hear. He heard variations of the same phrase, whenever people wanted to tell him that someone he loved had died, or that they were sending him back. Or both, but Feli didn't want to leave, and selfishly (for a heartbeat) he wished that it was the first option. The notion was soon gone; he didn't want anyone else to die. He knew what it was like to lose them, and someone would be crying. He had an endurance for it, that did nothing to soften the blows that reality liked to deal the poor child.

"It's about Lizzy." Feliks said.

* * *

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	39. Forget-Me-Not

Gilbert ended up using his money (it wasn't the play money, he realized after suffering a mini heart attack) to drive to the hospital, where he would be allowed to loiter in peace for most of the day. He grabbed a motel-provided bagel; the only substantial item among the array of wheats laid out for their "Continental Breakfast". The coffee shouldn't have even been called coffee; more like third-run grounds diluted with water, and then strained out to form a brownish mixture. He drank it so fast that it almost slopped out onto his shirt. _Eh, I can't look much worse I guess._

His car didn't immediately demand gasoline, but the needle hovered dangerously close to empty. He drove as fast as he was legally permitted. It was so early, that hardly anyone was out yet anyway.

The hospital appeared within a few minutes, and his tank promising enough money to at least get him to a gas station.

Before going into the hospital, he stared up at the layers of glass windows reaching to the sky. Gilbert wondered what floor Lizzy was on; _how did he even know that she was still breathing?_ It was a bad thought, and he shoved it out of his mind before it could become a fixture. But still, it was a growing concern, that suddenly everything would fall apart, and he wouldn't have a sympathetic friend who knew what he was going through. Just dead friends.

Roderich decided to burst in at that moment, and Gilbert was reminded again that his former friend and enemy had known what he was going through, and yet they had never been able to talk about it. It was too late to help each other.

The large HOSPITAL sign looked down on him. A few people in scrubs came out of the building, soon replaced by another set going in.

Gilbert followed a stream of them, and went twice through the spinning door.

He entered, and saw more than he had cared to pay attention to the first time. There were nice chairs that he had slept in, but not noted the color of; an uninteresting tan. The corners of the room were hidden by tall, green jungle plants. The receptionist clicked away at a computer, looking at him very briefly as he hesitantly stood in the room, still debating what he was actually going to do.

He approached the desk. "I'm a visitor. Umm, I know they said they'd call me, but do you know if I can see Lizzy Héderváry?"

She typed something in, and after a few moments of staring at the screen, nodded without making eye contact. She gave him the room number in a flat voice, like she dealt out the last moments of dying people all the time. A vending machine.

He whispered the number, repeating it under his breath so that he wouldn't forget. He got on the elevator, and punched in the buttons for the corresponding floor.

Gilbert stood in the elevator, feeling the way the mechanisms moved up and down, the whole thing sending his stomach into a lurching sensation. He counted the buttons on the wall as a means of distraction, both from his stomach, and from Lizzy, until he remembered that he was supposed to be thinking about the number, in case it slipped his mind.

The elevator stopped; too soon. A nurse, and a few civilians got on. Gilbert shifted over to the corner, making room. They took turns entering. The elevator dropped.

Gilbert breathed deeply, gripping the rail that went across all three walls. The elevator stopped again. His heartbeat shook.

He had to politely push past the congregated people also in the elevator, and stepped out into a silent, deserted hall. The length of it would bide him some time, and yet he couldn't get rid of the feeling that he wasn't supposed to be there; like he was an intruder.

He murmured the number again, walking down towards it, trying not to look into the rooms; he focused on the farthest room, not yet clearly visible.

But every step took him closer, until her door was right there; the answer to his question, calling out to his guilt, like a siren. Unlike the other doors, this was closed. He took the metal handle, and turned it open. A curtain was up around the bed, and the windows were open, the first rays of light pouring in.

 _She can't be dead. They wouldn't have let me in if she was dead._

 _How long did I take to get up here? What if…_

He wanted to run, run far away and never have to know what happened. He could pretend that she recovered, and then got better. But he didn't, instead inching towards the barrier. He parted it, the blue patterned fabric folding into pleats as it condensed into an accordion on the side, and there was Lizzy. Gilbert thought all his questions would have been answered, but he couldn't tell if she was dead or alive.

* * *

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	40. Don't Fear the Reaper

Her face looked drained and grey, like the sky on a rainy day. Her eyes were closed, and her body did not move. He thought she was dead. _Please let her be okay._

He grimaced to think that anything alive could be that color.

Her heart monitor chirped steadily. His heart surged. _She's alive._ She had held on to life.

 _Invincible Lizzy._

He felt the urge to touch her hand; to see if it was cold. But he refrained, using better judgement. Her arms were pricked with needles, and being pumped with medicine. He knew that a simple stomach pumping shouldn't have taken that long. She shouldn't still be in the ICU. _Something else went wrong._ Possibilities swam in his mind. _Liver damage? Was it her heart? Her lungs?_

He wanted to cry.

"Hi Lizzy, I know you can't hear me. But I'm here now. Eventually I'm gonna have to go sleep in my car, but I'll be back to visit. No matter how long it takes."

Lizzy stirred, Gilbert's heart skipped a beat. Her eyes opened, and catching him, they danced with excitement. Her lips moved, but uttered no sound. Gilbert felt tears rising to his eyes.

"Lizzy. Oh Lizzy. Why?" It was all he could say, the only words that would leave his mouth. He didn't know if she could hear him, or how long he had, but the moment that their eyes met, her's an unfocused green suddenly filled with a determined concentration, he knew no time.

As if a giant mist had been lifted from his mind, there was a crash of unfamiliar warmth.

"You-" his voice cracked. "You've made me happy. How'd you do that?"

Her mouth stopped moving. She coughed, so deeply that her heart sounded like it was being hacked up out of her chest, and would be spat onto the ground. Instead, she breathed in, blood torn from her throat sucking down audibly, and rasped. It was incoherent, before she said. "I'm magic."

Gilbert laughed. He laughed so hard, looking into her eyes. He laughed, hysterically mixed with crying which he wasn't sure could be called sad anymore, until he collapsed onto the hard, white hospital floor.

Lizzy made a sound; a bubbly laughter that sent blood forward in her mouth to coat her lips. But they had survived. Together, and for once the world was powerless, because they were together, and for a moment neither of them could remember depression.

He could see Lizzy's heart going erratically on the machine, a black background for a jagged red line. "Please get better. Even if I couldn't be there when you despaired-"

She nodded. Lizzy was crying, finally, again, crying had feeling, crying was possible. She wanted to laugh again.

"I love you." she said. He looked up from the floor. "I can love you now."

He smiled. "I can too."

The door opened. A nurse rushed wordlessly over, past Gilbert, and watched the heart monitor nervously.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." she said softly, as she took a lap sponge to wipe the blood from Lizzy's face.

That was it; the end. Gilbert got up, and left. His heart had been unchained, guilt was gone, and Lizzy was trapped in a hospital. He hoped that she would leave it alive.

He didn't look at anyone's faces as he left, through the elevator, past the lobby. He wanted to remember hers, as it had been, in case it was the last time.

* * *

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 **Surprise! Was all the suspense worth it? That being said, this isn't the last chapter, so... *laughs manically* (coughSHADOWScough)**

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	41. Tidal Wave

The only thing Gilbert could think to do was sit dejectedly in his car. His brother's car.

He locked himself in.

His brother was the only person he wanted to talk to now, and the only one who would understand. So many miles away, Luddy would know what Gilbert was feeling, and would even be able to see in his mind how Gilbert's face was set.

He selected his brother's name from his contact's list.

Ludwig must have seen the Caller ID, and grabbed it as fast as possible; there was no time for a single ring of the phone to finish. "Gilbert. How are you?"

Ludwig, always so practical, asking a question concerning not statistical data, not his geographic location, blood pressure, or his assessment of the situation; it was a question directed solely towards Gilbert's state of emotion. _I'm not the only one who's changed_ , Gilbert realized.

"I'm actually doing better. I feel better. It's a weird story. But I'm okay. Really, for the first time in months I can actually say that honestly."

Now came the dry fire questions. "How is Lizzy?" Gilbert reminded himself of the brief moment he had shared with his brother; Ludwig being ordered to call an ambulance for the woman, and not much else information.

"I don't know. She was in Intensive Care. I got in to see her, but not very long. She was responsive."

"Okay." Ludwig's voice calmed, as if he had been preparing for something much worse. "That's good. At least if she's awake and you were allowed to see her it means that she isn't," he stopped himself from saying the words. "...worse off. The ambulance came, and I waited over at her house to tell them that you were already on your way to the hospital. It's good that you took her over. They took over half an hour, and you were probably already there."

"Yeah. But in the end, I hope I wasn't too late. It would have worked on her part if she hadn't told me. Do you think that means that she reconsidered?"

Ludwig sighed. "People confuse me. I don't know why she would have done that otherwise. Unless she wanted to live, even as she died."

"I can see that. She can be very impulsive, I've noticed. But, I've also known how she feels. It's a scary thing, almost its own feeling; the wish to end your own life. I have wished that death would come naturally to me, but it took so long. There is a difference between wanting to die, and wanting to kill yourself. I guess I don't really understand how Lizzy was feeling, because her depression never really mirrored mine."

"She'll be okay." Ludwig promised. It was improbable, and very close to a lie on his part. There was no supporting evidence, and certainly no way to verify it; the thought should have rebelled against Ludwig's interior design, all things ordered and proven. Comforting was a foreign notion to Ludwig, but he tried it the same. And Gilbert sounded like he needed those words.

"Yeah. I'm broke right now. Don't worry, but I've got plans to sleep in your car outside the hospital. Until whatever happens next."

It wasn't quite a denial of the possibility that everything would not work out beautifully. _Roderich didn't get another chance; he just jumped forwards, and life didn't blink. So maybe just this once you could cut her some slack? She's trying so hard, and if she dies, I don't know what would happen to me._ Gilbert didn't care who he was praying to, or if it was even a prayer. It was more of a beseeching distress signal. Nothing came back, and he was left in the lighthouse of his soul with more crashing waves around the castle.

"I have to go. Please stay safe. Goodbye." Ludwig said.

"Bye."

* * *

All Lizzy could remember was that her dreams had tugged her by the hand into a consciousness that she didn't trust to be real. Gilbert had been there, smiled at her, she had laughed, and then fallen back into her own ocean. _But was I alive?_

She reached her hand out, it moved a little more than before, but only to just below the surface of the water. She was alone again.

With her wrinkled fingers, she covered her face, screaming so loud, and yet no one could hear. The water swallowed her voice, and surrounded her.

 _Take me back to the place where Gilbert was, even if he can't really see me. I need to say sorry for pretending to hear him. I need to say sorry for not holding on harder._

Whoever ordained her environment couldn't hear, or chose to ignore the pleas. And in the end, it was her very own rational mind.

 _I was ready to say goodbye. I was letting go. Maybe it was selfish for me to leave people, but I thought I could sleep here. There is nothing restful, if this is the afterlife._

A massive wave broke over the surface, and she could see it from beneath. She was in it, lifting, soaring higher and higher until it carried her over the water's skin, leaving it far behind. The ocean current released her, catapulting through the air like a toss of wind.

Lizzy didn't know where she was going. But her face hit the edge of her dream, and she woke in the hospital, bolt upright. She tasted the illusion of saltwater in her dry mouth, and then all traces of her nightmare prison were gone.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading and please review!**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter! There will be one more chapter and then an epilogue.**

 **Guest Review**

 **Guest: Thank you for reviewing :)**


	42. Sunshine

The doctor checked Lizzy again. She sat up, and demanded to be released from the hospital. He looked at his clipboard again.

"You've been in a coma for the past few days. We're obligated to keep you here for one more day, and make sure that no complications exist."

Lizzy shot him an irritated look. "I feel fine." she said.

"You were, until now, in a serious condition. We want to ensure a complete and safe recovery." he explained. "Additionally, I have some questions that you have been unable to answer for the past few days. Firstly, under what circumstances did that overdose enter your body? We pumped your stomach, but some damage had spread, which was when you were moved to the ICU. Now it seems to be fine, with minimal liver damage or anything else, but the spread of it could only have been caused by willful consumption of over-the-counter medications."

"I tried to kill myself. It didn't work."

"Okay. With that information, although you are physically recovering, we are required to move you to the psychiatric ward."

Lizzy rolled her eyes, and was inwardly pleased that she genuinely felt mentally better. Parts of her personality were starting to resurface.

"Can I call someone?"

"I'll bring over the phone. We could call-"

"It has to be me." she said. It was the beginnings of something good, the first thing in months. She reveled in the fact that real joy was actually consuming her.

"Gilbert. It's me." Lizzy said into the receiver.

Gilbert almost dropped his phone onto the car floor. "Oh my gosh, Lizzy. Are you okay?"

"Apparently I'm doing better now. They're going to keep me here a few days. You can go back now, and thank you for staying with me. But I'll be out soon. And then-"

"I'll stay."

"Don't be so hopelessly romantic, Gil. It's only a few days. You don't even have a place to stay, do you?"

"Maybe not. Actually, I'll be fine in Ludwig's car."

"No you will not." she laughed, and it only hurt a little. "If you don't go back, I will call your brother and have him haul you back to civilization. I promise I'll call you. And you are even allowed to pick me up from the hospital and take me back after I get released."

They made plans together, both ignoring the dark words that needed to be spoken, for the moment thinking only of the shiny new happiness bursting through their chests.

"Hey Gil, I just needed to say I'm sorry-"

"Don't. Don't apologize. I cannot imagine what pain you were going through, and I won't try. But it wasn't your fault, and I don't want to hear apologies. I-I hope you don't hate me for it. I wasn't there. Just promise...please, promise that you will tell me if you ever need anything. If you ever feel that way again, I'm here. I know it hurts. I'm sorry I wasn't there enough for you _._ "

"It was never your fault, Gil. I promise." Lizzy said, somberly. A thought struck her, like something she had suddenly remembered. "Gilbert, I love you."

 _Oh my gosh did I just blurt that out_. "I'm sorry, that was too abrupt, I'm so impulsive, I should have thought before I-"

"I love you too Lizzy." Gilbert wasn't even taken off guard. His words were given without enough time for thought: quick and unhesitating, because he knew them to be true. He had done all his thinking, too much of it.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, please review!**

 **Oh my gosh, this is the last whole chapter!**

 **There will be an epilogue posted next week.** ***needs to write an epilogue*** **I don't feel like I'm spoiling anything by saying that YES EVERYONE WILL BE OKAY. I'm not _that_ cruel. We've had enough suspense, right? ;)**

 **Thank you all so much for the support you've given me and this story! (I'll do more official thank you's and whatnot in the author's note for the epilogue.)**

 **Guest Review**

 **Guest: Thank you for reviewing! Yes, Lizzy is permanently awake now :)**


	43. Epilogue

Lizzy brightened the entire world as she walked out of the hospital, Gilbert beside her. She beamed.

It would be insufficient to say that she was happy. She was sure she had never felt so much joy, in her entire life.

Ludwig waited in the car to chauffeur them. "Hi, Lizzy. How are you?" he asked as they approached.

"I'm good." Those words were real now. "I'm really good." Lizzy said.

Gilbert smiled, and got into the back seat wordlessly.

Lizzy slid into the space next to him. "What did you do without me?" she asked, not containing her grin as she spoke.

"Well, Ludwig rented a car, and then he drove down with gas, and we drove back, and waited it out at home. I was so worried."

"Wow. Sounds like quite the roadtrip. Thank you both."

"No problem." Gilbert said. He hugged her.

"You're welcome, Miss Hedervary. I'm happy for your safe recovery."

Lizzy and Gilbert talked and laughed and smiled the entire car ride home. The radio was tuned in to a station, but Lizzy couldn't even hear it. Ludwig looked back at them, catching their happiness in his rear-view mirror, and smiled bittersweetly to himself. He was relieved, and surprised that he was returning with good news, and no more death.

* * *

The sun died on the sea, wavering watercolors of red and orange and blue across the the skyline.

Michelle cleared her throat to speak, but it was clenched. She breathed in deeply.

You can do this.

"Lizzy, I am so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?" Michelle said. The words she had kept in her head since she had been informed of Lizzy's attempted suicide fell out in a heap*.

They were at the beach, sharing the same towel. It was sunny, and the cold tide came in.

The road trip to saying these words here had been icy (though not unkind) with silence and unspoken words.

"It's okay." Lizzy said, looking at the edge of the ocean.

"No, it's not. It wasn't okay for me to abandon you. And I'm sorry. I know I made a mistake. I f-failed. It didn't matter i-if-" And she was sobbing, falling apart, unprofessionally. This wasn't how she had envisioned seeking forgiveness, but Lizzy hugged her, and whispered, "I forgive you."

* * *

It was autumn, and the leaves fell all over the pavement in brilliant colors.

Lizzy held Gilbert's hand in her own as they walked, down the very street where they had met, past the bus stop where everything had seemed cold and grey, except for his eyes.

Unconsciously, she stopped there. Gilbert looked at it: a landmark of their journey. "Thank you, Lizzy." he said.

"For what?" She smiled. It was like the sun.

"For saving my life."

"I didn't save your life Gilbert. I just made everything worse. I was weak."

"Lizzy, you were so strong. You're still so strong."

Lizzy held both his hands, and looked into his eyes. "Gilbert, I love you. And I'm too impulsive, and I don't want to rush into things, but it feels right- what I mean is, marry me." She laughed awkwardly. The words were out at least.

Gilbert didn't say anything at first. He shook. Forever.

She put a hand on his vibrating shoulder. "Are you okay?" He was smiling, but he hadn't said anything yet.

Lizzy relaxed. "Oi, I asked you a question? Are you gonna marry me or not?" She said, jestingly, seeing the answer in his face already.

Gilbert was muffling joyful laughter. God it felt good to laugh again. He wanted to laugh until he fell on the ground crying. He grinned. "Let's do it! I love you."

And kissing was warm in the cold autumn air with tree leaves crunching and scuttling on the pavement.

* * *

Feliks scalded his throat swallowing his coffee so fast. "WHAT?!"

"I said, Gilbert and Lizzy are getting married." Toris repeated calmly.

"FELI! Feli, Feli! Come here!" Feliks hollered, and bounded into the other room.

"Yes?"

"Guess what? Lizzy and Gil are getting married!"

Feli smiled, and couldn't bring himself to tell Feliks that family often meant nothing with time and death.

* * *

Together, in front of an altar, they were battle partners. She had saved his life, he had saved hers. And for better or for worse, they were unbreakable together. They had already seen the worst, the most painful. The only way to go was up together.

"Lizzy." Gilbert whispered.

Lizzy ignored him resolutely.

"Psst, Lizzy-"

The most important day of my life. I'm marrying him, what more could he want?

She looked at him.

"What do you call a melon that's not allowed to get married?"

Oh gosh. What have I gotten myself into? she thought, looking at the ring on her finger.

"A can't elope." he whispered, and smiled. Her anxiety dissipated.

"Gilbert, we're about to get married. Pay attention." she hissed.

* * *

After the ceremony, Gilbert approached Feliks.

"Hey, um, Feliks. I need to talk to you." Gilbert said.

"Yeah?"

"Well, Lizzy and I are interested in adopting Feli. I know you've been able to have him stay with you for a while now, but I was wondering if you'd be alright with us contacting the Foster agency?"

"Oh my gosh. Yes. I love the kid, but you guys would definitely be able to provide for him better than me. I live alone, and I only have one income, and I go to work. It would be better for him."

Gilbert smiled. "What agency is he in?"

"Well, lets just make a date for me to help you research and contact them. If you and Lizzy come over, I can connect you to some of the people I've already spoken to. And we can see what the requirements and such are, and put that all together. I can't wait to tell Feli! He'll be so excited."

Feli, several feet away, turned when he heard his name.

"I hope it works out. I want Feli to be happy, no matter where he is." Gilbert whispered. He handed the reigns over to Feliks with a significant nod.

"Umm, Feli, how would you feel if Gilbert and Lizzy took care of you instead of me?"

Feli didn't say anything. And then he smiled, a little.

Feliks couldn't have felt happier for them.

* * *

"Ugh, I'm so hungry. I haven't eaten all day." Lizzy said as she collapsed into her chair.

"Well, I got you some chicken." Gilbert said, helpfully.

"Thank goodness, honey."

Feliks looked over at her mischievously, and tapped his glass with a fork.

Lizzy looked up to see the whole room staring at her.

She turned to Gilbert. "What do I do? I've never actually been to a-"

He was kissing her.

Oh.

She was kissing him too. In front of a roomful of onlookers, but that didn't matter.

Gilbert could imagine Roderich scowling, but only to cover his smile underneath it.

* * *

"Mmm, your cake's really good. Who made it?" asked Michelle, through a mouthful of frosting.

"Katya did. She's running a bakery now."

"Oh? I can't believe I didn't know that." Michelle said. Then her eyes grew graver, as if she didn't want to say what she was going to say. "Did you tell her? You know, about your depression?"

"No." Lizzy said, looking down at her dress. "And I kind of distanced myself from her too. I didn't want to hurt anyone. But I made a mistake, and we've reconnected. I told her everything, and she was very supportive. I should have told her in the first place. She was so worried about me."

"Hey. It's okay. We all make mistakes." Michelle gently. "I'm glad that you guys are friends again."

* * *

Lizzy smiled brightly in the photograph. Gilbert was wearing a goofy face beside her, and in between them was a beaming Feli. The little patchwork family.

Gilbert told terrible dad jokes at dinner, and Feli pretended to be embarrassed, but secretly thought that they were very funny. Lizzy rolled her eyes, but smiled.

Lizzy was lovely. Gilbert had always known that, but now Lizzy knew it too. She looked in the mirror one day and say, "Damn, I look good today."

"Yup." he said meekly.

As she recovered, Gilbert saw aspects of her personality that had been masked before. And he loved them all.

She was fiesty, quick tempered, a bit bossy, very strong willed, boisterous, and beautifully compassionate. Gilbert always loved her.

Gilbert was more confident and bold now, especially after having been prescribed medication.

And Lizzy was happy to see his confidence. And there was plenty of that.

"Because I'm awesome!" he suddenly declared one day, and she knew that he was okay.

"Is that your new catchphrase?" she asked.

"Yeah. What was my old one though?"

"How about 'Liiiiiizy! Help me reach this thing because I'm too short to reach it!'"

Gilbert laughed. For real. Lizzy did too. It felt so nice, and light, and natural, and sweet, like she was wearing a pretty summer dress.

Lizzy was beautiful, and kind, and suffering so much silently. The world had stabbed her with knives, and she still smiled. He thought about this while he watched her reading Feli a bedtime story. Feli thought that he was too old for bedtime stories, but he didn't mind. His blankets were warm, and secure. Lizzy and Gilbert kissed his forehead and said "Goodnight Feli. I love you." And Lizzy smoothed the sheets over him before she left and turned off the lights. There was a little nightlight, and Feli thought that Gilbert and Lizzy were really good at being parents, especially since they had no practice.

Feli went to school. He came home and pinned his drawings from art class to the fridge.

It was heartachingly painful to watch Feli's suspicion of his secure life. He still wouldn't call it home. He could not trust it, but every day he believed more and more that it would last longer. His hope was fragile, but growing stronger.

Lizzy and Gilbert took the same medication, and drove to the counselor with Feli every other week, so they could all try to be okay in the end.

There were moments when they were both imperfect. When they felt scars burning, and Lizzy held Gilbert tightly as he sobbed with worry over Ludwig, who had been deployed. "I wasn't a good enough brother. I wasn't there for him!"

"You were the most loving, kind, supportive brother Ludwig could have asked for Gilbert. Ludwig loves you."

Lizzy sometimes forgot to do things that made her happy. Gilbert reminded Lizzy to be happy, whether it was by simply existing or by barraging her with questions about her photography, or watching a nature documentary with her. Lizzy felt strange when she smiled, but she remembered how to.

They fought like a normal couple, and forgave, and were human.

They loved and lived like a family, and whether or not they would ever be "normal" was uncertain, but they could feel happy.

It was not perfect. It would never be perfect. But it was enough.

* * *

 **AHHHHHHHHHH IT'S OVER!**

 **Okay, so I need to sincerely thank every person who read this story. It means so much to me, and I hope it helped you in some way.**

 **I would like to thank everyone who favorited or followed this story, and especially those who reviewed!**

 **I am still depressed, but I'm hopeful that I'll recover.**

 **If you suffer from mental illness, you aren't alone. It's going to be okay. :)**


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